


letters you never sent

by mfalfanclub



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Best Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, and mark lee is questioning a bit, and there are mentions of nu'est exo oh my girl gugudan and tvxq also, artsy yuta, dancer taeyong, it's slowburn but like not Strictly slowburn?, my prompter wanted me to go easy on the angst and sweetheart please know i tried, oh and markyong are stepbrothers, songwriter taeyong, sorry no smut but i tried to go hard with the makeouts for yall, this fic is really just ty pining uselessly with periodic interludes for markhyuck fluff, winil are ace, you can also expect cameos from members of loona rv bp gfriend tbz and f(x), you have to pretend yuta can draw to get through this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-06-27 10:30:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 93,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19789030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mfalfanclub/pseuds/mfalfanclub
Summary: It only takes Ten about fifteen minutes to figure out that Taeyong is in love with Yuta. Taeyong, on the other hand, is a little slower on the uptake. Nine years slower, actually. And if it took Taeyong nine years to realize that he's in love with his best friend, then who knows how long it'll take him to find the nerve to tell him.





	1. through the night

It all started just over a month after they moved in together.

It was one in the morning on a Saturday. Yuta was out with Ten, his friend from beauty school whom Taeyong hadn’t yet met but whom Yuta had described as having “more veteran gay points than you and me combined.” Taeyong had elected to stay home, blaming sore muscles after a long week at the dance studio. Now, as was always the case when he voluntarily spent time apart from Yuta, he was regretting it.

Yuta had been texting him steadily for an hour and a half before he stopped replying after Taeyong had sent a brief _“lol same”_ at 11:40. Taeyong paused the movie that was playing on his laptop and pulled up the chat again. _“i miss youuuuouiouo”_ he typed.

The reply came in seconds later. _“u should have come out with us. Loser”_

Taeyong shifted his laptop off his lap and rolled onto his side, propping his elbow up on the pillow. _“you said ten wanted to go to rainbow bar and i don’t have the energy for so much GLITTER tonight,”_ he sent.

Instantly, Yuta answered, _“losing ur gay points fasstttt”_

Taeyong was trying to think of a snarky reply when another text came in from Yuta’s number: _“who the hell are u i’m tryuing to get yuta to dance,”_ with a series of kissy and star-eye emojis following the words.

Taeyong bristled. _“only his best friend since we were 15 but go off”_

There was a short pause, and then Yuta said, _“ten grabbed my phone sorry he’s kinda drunk lmao”_

 _“who the hell am i? who the hell aM I he said,”_ Taeyong sent, and then added for good measure, _“EYE, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta’s roommate, partner in crime, favorite person in the universe??? WHO THE HELL AM I”_

 _“I’M SO SORRY I DIDN”T SEE THE CONTACT NAME OMG I’vE HEARD SO MUCH ABOUT U TAEYONG!! HELLO HONEY WHY DIDN’T U COME OUT OTNIGHTT!!”_ The reply was signed with the number 10.

A little surge of joy tingled in Taeyong’s stomach. He was Yuta’s best friend, so of course Yuta would mention him. Still, it was nice to know that he was talked about. _“heard a lot about you too,”_ he texted, _“but i’m tired tonight :(”_

 _“it’s me again,”_ came the reply. _“it’s already 1 am why aren’t u sleeping tired bby”_

Taeyong bit his lip, considering, and then answered honestly, _“because you’re not home,”_ tacking on a sniffling emoji so as not to seem too tragic.

 _“awwwhhhhh,”_ Yuta replied, and then, _“hang on one second”_

One second turned into fifteen minutes, and Taeyong thought that Yuta had forgotten to reply when his phone buzzed with an incoming FaceTime call. Yuta’s grinning contact picture from when he had purple hair back in college illuminated the screen. Taeyong smiled, warmth flushing through him, and picking up immediately.

Purple Yuta was replaced by the black-haired Yuta of present day, frowning and slightly blurry. “Can you see me?” he said, peering closer at the screen.

“Yeah. Kind of. You’re in pixels,” said Taeyong.

“Oh, there you are.” Yuta’s face sharpened into high definition at the same time that it was lit up by a dazzling smile. Taeyong had always been vaguely, fondly jealous of that smile. No matter how widely Taeyong smiled, he never looked quite as warm or sincere as Yuta did when he beamed like that.

“Where are you?” Taeyong asked, looking behind Yuta at a dimly glittering wall. Muffled bass was thumping in the background of the call.

“I’m in the bathroom,” Yuta said. “If I called you out there, you wouldn’t be able to hear a thing. Sorry it took me so long. I was waiting in line for like twenty minutes.”

“Aw. You didn’t actually have to call me.”

“It’s okay, I had to pee anyway so,” Yuta shrugged. “There are still people out there in line and it’s a one-stall thing but lemme sing you a lullaby real quick.”

“A lullaby?” Taeyong said.

“Yeah, so you can stop missing me and go to sleep,” Yuta said, looking over the top of his phone at something—a mirror, maybe, and ruffling his hair.

Taeyong closed his laptop and shoved it to the other side of the bed, snuggling down further into his pillows. “Mm. Okay.”

Yuta looked down at the screen again and let out a laugh. “Cute baby.”

“Sing to meeee,” Taeyong singsonged.

“Okay, shh.” The wall behind Yuta shifted up, as if he had sat down on his heels. _“Tonight,”_ he sang softly, _“I’ll send the glow of a…”_

“Oh, IU, I love this song,” Taeyong said. Yuta shushed him and continued.

_“I’ll send the glow of a firefly_

_To somewhere near your window_

_To tell you I love you.”_

It wasn’t the first time Yuta had sung to him. It probably wasn’t even the hundredth. But it was the first time Yuta had sung him to sleep, and it was also the first time this peculiar feeling had blinked to life inside him. This little sense of wonder, like looking up at a starry sky, but he was looking at his best friend’s face.

_“Just like letters on the sand where the waves were,_

_I feel you’ll disappear to a far-off place._

_I always miss you, miss you.”_

Yuta’s eyes wandered around the small room while he sang and then met Taeyong’s through the screen. His head tilted back and forth to the rhythm of the words he sang, ignoring the heavy beat of the club music on the other side of the door. _“All the words in my heart,”_ he sang quietly without looking away from Taeyong, _“I can’t show them all to you, but they say I love you.”_

A loud knock sounded on the bathroom door. Yuta’s eyes flicked towards it, and he giggled over the word “love.” Taeyong realized he had been holding his breath. He let it out.

“Almost done!” Yuta yelled, and then turned his attention back to Taeyong, ignoring two more, angrier-sounding knocks. “Okay, I think I really have to go now. Sweet dreams. Bye.”

Yuta looked at him, waiting for a response. Taeyong cleared his throat. “Oh. Bye.”

Yuta puckered his lips in an air kiss and then the call was ended.

Taeyong stared at the screen for several seconds. Then he shoved his phone beneath his pillow and rolled onto his back.

That had been a little…strange.

Looking at Yuta always made him happy—gave him a rush even, sometimes, to know that this miracle of a human being was his to claim as a best friend. As a “soulmate,” Yuta had even said once or twice. But the feeling that had swept through him when Yuta sang while holding his gaze without a hint of shyness or embarrassment—something about had felt more acute than usual. A little more insistent, demanding that Taeyong look it in the eye.

Instead, he brushed it off. Yuta was special to him. Of course Taeyong would feel…affectionate towards him. Sure. Why not? They were best friends.

When Yuta got in two hours later, Taeyong was only just beginning to doze off. He jolted fully awake with a start and listened for a minute to the sound of Yuta shuffling around in the front hall. The desire to see Yuta’s face was greater than the need to go back to sleep. He crept down the ladder from his loft bed and creaked open his bedroom door, leaning against the doorframe.

Yuta, who was sitting on the ground struggling to pull off his left boot, looked up at Taeyong through feathery black fringe and grinned. Taeyong’s heart rose like a balloon. _My best friend. Mine._

“Hellu,” Yuta said.

Taeyong coughed. “You…you’re a mess. You’re trailing glitter like Tinker Bell.”

It was true. One side of Yuta’s head was covered in glitter, and both his boots were caked in it. “Courtesy of Rainbow Bar,” he grunted, yanking at his boot, “and a certain drunk gay who thought it would be fun to toss twenty thousand won at a bartender and say _‘I’m buying out your supply of glitter bombs.’_ ”

Rainbow Bar was famous for selling paper balls full of glitter meant to be cracked over people’s heads on their birthdays. Taeyong could imagine Ten finding an excuse to buy them any day of the year.

“Ten?” he said.

“Mm hm. Fucking lightweight...For fuck’s sake, this fucking shoe is, like, suction cupped to the bottom of my foot…”

Taeyong knelt and took ahold of the boot, sliding it off easily. Yuta’s eyes widened. “How did you _do_ that?”

“All you had to do was unflex your ankle,” Taeyong said. Yuta ignored him, pointing at his hand and whispering, “ _Magic_.”

“You’re hammered,” Taeyong said as he took hold of Yuta’s other boot.

“Why are you still up?”

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?”

“No. Why are you still up?”

“Uh…” Taeyong didn’t know how to answer. Why _was_ he still up? Why hadn’t he been able to fall asleep? “I was thinking about…something.”

“Something,” Yuta repeated.

“Like, stuff.”

“So my lullaby didn’t work?” Yuta said, sticking out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout.

“I mean, it made me happy. Didn’t put me to sleep though.” Taeyong stood up.

“Okay, well, go back to bed,” Yuta said, struggling out of his jacket. He tossed it in the general direction of the hall closet and a shimmer of glitter fell from him. “My baby needs his beauty sleep.”

Yuta called Taeyong “baby” often, and only slightly more when he was drunk. That never stopped Taeyong’s insides from doing a little flip. It was cute, after all.

“Okay,” Taeyong said. “You…get to sleep too.”

“Anything you say,” Yuta said, aiming finger guns towards Taeyong and flicking them up as if they’d gone off. When Taeyong jolted one way and then the other, pretending to take two bullets, Yuta rushed dramatically to catch him. Both of them laughed as Taeyong fell to his knees and leaned back into Yuta’s arms.

“Promise me…you’ll take care of Mark when I’m gone,” Taeyong whispered.

“No! Don’t leave me! Not like this!” Yuta gasped, cradling Taeyong’s head in his hand.

Taeyong looked up into Yuta’s face, giggles slowing down. Yuta’s smiling eyes were radiant, and a piece of glitter glinted in his eyebrow. Another few centimeters closer, and Taeyong could kiss him.

_Kiss him?_

“Too late, I’m dead,” Taeyong said, ducking out from under Yuta and back into his bedroom. Yuta pulled a tragic face. “ _I’m sorry, Mrs. Lee, I couldn’t save him…_ ”

“And clean up the fucking glitter before it Max walks in it or gets it in his eye or something.”

Yuta spun around at the mention of the cat, warbling, “Where _is_ that funky little chubster?”

“I already gave him two treats at dinner, don’t give him any more!” Taeyong called through the halfway-closed door, knowing Yuta wouldn’t listen to him, especially drunk.

He watched Yuta wave an indifferent hand as he walked off down the hall. He sang while he went, “ _I hope you have a good dream_.”

It was the last line of the song that he hadn’t finished earlier.

“Night,” Taeyong said, and shut the door.

In the darkness of his room, Taeyong slapped his hands to his cheeks to try to force the warmth out of them. What _was_ that? What was going on with him tonight? Wanting to kiss Yuta—no, _hoping_ , the feeling was _hope_ —hoping, for a flash of a split second, that Yuta would bend down just a little further, smile, and tilt his head sideways so that their lips would meet and…no. That was absurd. Yuta was his best friend. The operative word, of course, being “friend.” Friends didn’t kiss, except maybe for fun, and a just-for-fun kiss wasn’t what Taeyong had found himself hoping for.

Taeyong shook himself and climbed the ladder to his bed. He needed to relax. He hadn’t gotten much sleep this week, and his emotions were out of whack. That must be it. Nothing that a good night’s sleep couldn’t put to rest.

Taeyong tucked himself under the covers of his bed until only his eyes and nose remained exposed to the cold air. Yes, this feeling clinging to his ribcage, this little sweet glow—it was just the result of too many four-hour sleeps in a row. No reason to worry. Yuta was the most perfect thing in Taeyong’s life, and nothing between them needed to change. Nothing had to change.

At least, that was what Taeyong told himself, through nearly every moment of every day until the night Yuta introduced him to Ten. It was two weeks after Taeyong had first felt that thoroughly ridiculous flash of desire to kiss Yuta, and although the entire notion of _kissing_ his _best friend_ was, of course, completely outlandish, silly, and out of the question, it had been crossing his mind with increasing frequency. He thought about it when Yuta passed him in the hallway carrying a load of laundry. He thought about it when Yuta cuddled into his side while they watched TV. He thought about it when Yuta sulked after losing to Jaehyun at game night at Sicheng and Taeil’s. He thought about it when he was washing dishes at the sink and Yuta nudged in beside him to fill a glass with water. He _definitely_ thought about it when Yuta emerged from the bathroom in only a towel, hair wet, skin flushed in blotches from the hot water. It was concerning. Concerning, but no reason to panic. Taeyong was a firm believer in not panicking.

He didn’t even panic when Yuta, face a breath away from his own, moaned, “God, your lips are so _perfect_ ,” as he brushed cherry-red lip tint over them on Saturday night. He knew it was only the makeup artist in Yuta talking, a conviction which was affirmed when Yuta introduced Ten to Taeyong an hour later and the first thing Ten said was, “Oh, _now_ I know what you meant when you said his face is the perfect canvas.”

“Isn’t his eye shape insane? What do you think of the eyeshadow? I tried the wet pigment technique Han was talking about on Monday,” Yuta asked Ten. Taeyong had already told Yuta back at the apartment that the makeup Yuta had done for him was stunning. Taeyong’s opinion was usually enough for Yuta, which was telling of how important Ten had become to him in such a short time. Taeyong shushed the twinge of resentment he felt at the thought and tried to focus on the gladness that Yuta was making friends at beauty school so fast.

“Exquisite,” cooed Ten, eyes hovering over Taeyong’s as he studied them. His eyes narrowed just slightly, and he added, “I might have toned down the shade of bronze, though. Since the wetting is already a brightener.”

“That’s the point though. That’s _the_ _look_ ,” Yuta said.

“Well,” Ten shrugged, “it’s not like you play by the rules, anyway. So, Taeyong!” Finally Ten looked into his eyes instead of at them, and smiled, pulling Taeyong into a tight hug. “It’s a treat to meet you, sweetie. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Taeyong gave Ten a squeeze in return before letting him go. “All good things, I hope?”

Yuta, who never had time for pleasantries like this, rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I told him all about how you’re a neat freak and that our cat likes me better than you.”

“He likes us equally,” Taeyong scowled.

“But the neat freak thing you admit.”

“I swear I’m not that bad,” Taeyong said, turning back to Ten, who was watching the exchange with folded arms and a grin. It was a smug grin, almost a smirk, which Taeyong didn’t understand until they were inside the bar and Yuta had left them alone at a table to go buy the first round of drinks.

“So what’s, like, _going on_ with you two?” Ten asked, tone lowered conspiratorially, after Yuta had disappeared into the crowd.

“Going on…?” Taeyong repeated.

“You know,” Ten said with a meaningful head tilt, “you and Yuta.”

“Me and Yuta? We’re best friends. We’ve known each other since we were 15,” Taeyong said. He smiled—he always liked to tell people about this. “We met at an art camp the summer he and his family moved to Seoul, and we’ve been best friends ever since.”

“Uh huh. And how long have you been fucking?”

If Taeyong had had a drink to spit out, he probably would have. “Fuck— _fucking?_ We’re not fucking.”

Ten seemed to find this answer extremely amusing. “Is it supposed to be a secret or something? Because you guys are, like, kind of obvious.”

“We’re not obvious!” Taeyong said, and then backpedaled, “I mean, we can’t be obvious because we’re not—we’re not hooking up. We’re just friends.”

“Okay, okay,” Ten said, holding up his hands, “sure, you’re just friends.”

“Why, uh,” Taeyong said and drummed his fingers on the table, “why did you think…?”

“Oh, I assumed a long time ago. I guess just from the way he talks about you.”

“How does he talk about me?”

“Well, he referred to you as his ‘baby’ once,” Ten said.

Taeyong waved a hand. “He always does that.”

Ten raised his eyebrows, blinking overstatedly.

“Is that it? You thought we were fucking because he called me ‘baby’ once?” Taeyong said, trying to sound more playful than disappointed. But… _was_ he disappointed? _Of course not_ , he told himself, even knowing it wasn’t fully true. This was not the time to panic.

“Oh, no.” Ten laughed. “ _‘Is that it,’_ he asks. No, honey. He brings you up constantly. It’s like you never leave his head. _‘My best friend Taeyong would kill that double wing eyeliner.’ ‘I practiced this technique on my roommate Taeyong yesterday and it looked better than picture in the textbook.’ ‘My baby Taeyong’s prettier than all the models they teach off of in this class.’_ Like, with the amount of times he mentions you while we’re at school, I thought you guys must at _least_ be friends with benefits, if not more…”

“We’ve known each other for nine years,” Taeyong said. “We’re just close.”

Ten continued as if Taeyong hadn’t spoken, “And the way you _look_ at him…”

“I don’t look at him any way,” Taeyong said.

“Maybe I’m just seeing things, then.” Ten smiled impishly.

Taeyong squirmed. “How do I…how does it look like I look at him?” he asked.

Ten leaned in, like he was delivering some intimate secret. “Like someone who’s dying of thirst looks at a lake.”

“I…” Taeyong was speechless. He felt somehow muddled. He looked around for Yuta, wondering when he would get back with the drinks.

“But I must be wrong,” Ten said with a shrug, and sat back. “You say there’s no sexual tension, there’s no sexual tension. I just would have thought, from the way you guys act. I mean, why not, you know? You get each other, you trust each other, you’re gorgeous, he’s gorgeous…”

As Ten spoke, Taeyong finally spotted Yuta across the room, thanking a bartender and struggling to pick up three glasses of soju between his two hands. A woman passed between them, and when she moved, Yuta was looking back at Taeyong. They caught each other’s eyes and Yuta grinned, holding the glasses aloft.

“He is, isn’t he,” Taeyong murmured.

“Oh, no,” he heard Ten sigh. He turned back to see Ten wearing a softer, almost pitying smile.

“What?”

“I misread,” Ten said. “You’re in love with him.”

Taeyong opened his mouth to speak and suddenly Yuta was there, powerwalking towards the table with the triangle of drinks held out in front of him, babbling, “Taeyong, Taeyong, Taeyong, Taeyong, Tae—”

Taeyong stared at him. Ten, realizing Yuta was about to lose one of the drinks, lunged forward. Taeyong watched as a glass slipped from Yuta’s grasp and sloshed a little before Ten saved it, planting it firmly on the table and reaching to help Yuta maneuver the other two to safety.

“Thanks, Ten,” Yuta said. “Fuck, did it spill you?”

“Barely,” said Ten, grabbing a napkin.

Yuta turned to Taeyong and waved in front of his face. “What’s with you? Did you forget your name or something?”

Taeyong felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of icewater over his head, only it wasn’t icewater, it was sunshine, and it was warm and bright, and sparkly, and soft, and smelled like flowers, and all of it was radiating off the extraordinary human being standing in front of him. Everything suddenly made sense. The glow. The tenderness. The need to be around Yuta, the occasional bumps of jealousy, the times his breath hitched or his heart beat faster. How had it taken him nine years and a conversation with a nosy Thai boy to realize? Yuta was _it_. It was Yuta. It was always Yuta.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

His best friend was looking at him with a one-eyebrowed frown. Ten was biting down on his lips, as if holding back laughter.

“Huh? What? I…nothing,” Taeyong said. The golden haze fell away, the singing angels, the scent of roses, all of it disappeared with a jarring record scratch.

“Are you good?” Yuta asked, squinting at him closely.

Taeyong swallowed, only to find that his mouth was dry.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he said.

“O…kay,” Yuta said, and circled around the table to sit down on Ten’s other side. Every fiber of Taeyong’s body felt Yuta move away, as if Yuta were a magnet, or a very small planet reminding those around it of its gravity.

When Taeyong finally looked away from Yuta, his eyes met Ten’s. Ten winked.

_You’re in love with him._

“So does anyone want food, or are we just here to get smashed?” Yuta asked as he picked up a menu, and Taeyong knew.

Now. Now was the time to panic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone! thanks for checking out 'letters you never sent'!
> 
> so i didn't know how to name my chapters and i considered leaving them blank, but i have a playlist i've been listening to while writing that the fic is really closely tied to in my head, so i thought i would name each chapter after a song in the playlist. i'll list them all here, in case you feel like listening through as you read the fic!
> 
> 1\. through the night / iu  
> 2\. it was always you / maroon 5  
> 3\. love line / tvxq!  
> 4\. all i can think about is you / coldplay  
> 5\. bad liar / selena gomez  
> 6\. i like you the most in this earth / o!gon  
> 7\. the writer / ellie goulding  
> 8\. alone together / fall out boy  
> 9\. everything / 10cm  
> 10\. till the end / lucy rose  
> 11\. disarm / the civil wars  
> 12\. quiero verte / diana fuentes  
> 13\. heroes / peter gabriel  
> 14\. holiday (feat. dpr live) / suzy  
> 15\. shaking heads / foxes  
> 16\. highway to heaven / nct 127
> 
> anyway that's all for now i think! hope you enjoy the fic!! feel free to leave comments anytime :)
> 
> **ah also!! my prompt was #934 if anyone was wondering <3 thank you dear prompter!!


	2. it was always you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was always you / maroon 5

“So what’s your problem?” asked Mark over FaceTime the next morning.

“What’s my _problem?_ ” Taeyong said.

“Last night. You said you had a problem.”

“I didn’t—”

“You spammed my phone with like 19 messages that just said ‘SOS’ and then when I asked what was wrong, you said you could only say it over the phone because writing it out in a text would be too ‘incriminating,’” said Mark.

“Okay, well, that’s not the—”

“And then when you didn’t pick up my calls, I had to ask Yuta if you were okay and suffer through several Snapchats I wish I never saw of you downing shots of tequila and then sloppily trying to flirt with a bartender, who, by the way,” Mark said, “looked like a het.”

“Well he was nice, at least,” said Taeyong.

“Taeyong, you never flirt with strangers. And god knows you avoid straight boys like the plague—”

“ _Okay_. So I was a little sloshed.”

“Why? What happened?”

Taeyong rubbed at his eye with the heel of one hand. “Okay, well, it’s not a _problem_ , necessarily, it’s just that, like, there may be a small…issue…”

“Uh huh. I got that. So what’s going on? Aside from the fact,” Mark said, looking over Taeyong’s face, “that you’ve probably gotten a total of, like, ten hours of sleep in the last week.”

“I’ve been getting plenty of sleep, for your information,” Taeyong said.

Somewhere outside the bedroom door Max meowed, and Taeyong jumped, the phone falling from his hand. He shuffled for it. Yuta had gone for groceries, but part of Taeyong was terrified that he would walk back into the apartment at any moment.

“Sure,” said Mark in Taeyong’s earphones. “You’re on edge, and you look like a hot anime ghost, but of course you’re getting enough sleep.”

“I’m not on edge because I’m not sleeping,” said Taeyong, recovering the phone to find Mark squinting at his front camera. “I’m on edge because I have a…a…”

“A problem.”

“Yes.”

“So…?”

“I should probably feed Max, he’s being loud,” Taeyong muttered.

“If you keep avoiding talking about what’s bothering you, I’m going to hang up,” said Mark.

“Oh, Mark. You’re such a good, respectful little brother.”

“Stepbrother,” Mark corrected.

“Mean.”

“Do you want to talk, or did I ditch Lucas in the middle of a video game tournament for nothing?”

Taeyong pouted. “Isn’t it enough just to see my face, dearest brother?”

Mark leaned into the phone and said in a raised voice, “Well, it was great talking to you, big bro, I’ll be getting going n—”

“Okay, okay, no, I’ll tell you,” said Taeyong. He absently played with the corner of a page of his open notebook. “It’s just…like…it’s…”

They were both silent for a moment. Then Mark asked, “Is it bad?”

“It’s bad,” Taeyong whispered.

Mark shifted closer to the camera. “Lay it on me.”

Taeyong took a breath. “It’s…Yuta…”

Mark’s face changed immediately. “What? What happened to him?”

“I’m in love with him,” Taeyong said miserably.

A second passed, and then two. Finally, Mark said, “And…?”

“ _And?_ ” Taeyong said. “That’s it, I—what do you mean, ‘ _and?’_ ”

“No, like…” Mark laughed. “You’re in love with him? With Yuta?”

“Yeah…”

“ _Yo_ ,” echoed a voice on Mark’s end, and Mark turned his head, grinning.

Taeyong groaned. “ _Ma_ -ark! _Lucas_ is there?”

“It’s his room too. You!” Mark extended his arm out of frame towards Lucas, who was laughing somewhere off-camera. “Don’t breathe a word of this conversation to anyone!”

“Why couldn’t you have applied for a single dorm,” Taeyong said.

“So your big problem,” said Mark, ignoring him, “is that you’re in love?”

“Yeah, with _Yuta_ ,” said Taeyong.

“What’s bad about that?”

“Um?” Taeyong gaped. “He’s my best friend?”

“So?”

“ _So—_ ”

“Wait, wait. What did he say when you told him?” Mark said.

“He—nothing! I didn’t tell him!” Taeyong spluttered. “You think I should—”

“You didn’t _tell_ _him_?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Why?”

Taeyong stared down at his lap, mouth half open in silent protest. Mark raised his eyebrows.

“Well I…” Taeyong gesticulated emptily.

Mark looked Taeyong up and down, half-suppressing a smile. “Okay, so like, back up a second. What brought you to this…revelation? When did you realize?”

“It was a long time coming,” said Taeyong, looking down into his lap again. “But I didn’t really know until uh…well he was singing to me one night a couple weeks ago and…I don’t know. I started, like, thinking about if…you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” said Mark. His smile had broadened.

Taeyong huffed and said, “He was singing an IU song to me, and I was thinking, like, what if…he really meant it? The lyrics? And like, he _didn’t_ , mean them, but I was thinking, what if he did…and everything. And then…”

“What song was it?”

“Is that relevant?”

“How is it _not_ relevant, you’re saying the lyrics of a song he was singing made you start to wonder if—”

“It was ‘ _Through the Night_ ,’ if you’re so desperate to know.”

“Good song,” said Mark seriously.

“And then I just thought a lot about it for a few weeks and—”

“Thought a lot about what, exactly?”

“Can you let me _talk?_ ”

“Not if everything you say is so vague that I can’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“I was thinking about…about…” Taeyong wanted to throw his phone across the room. Why was it so difficult to get the words out?

“Marrying him. Kissing him. Raising his children,” Mark supplied.

Taeyong nodded reluctantly.

“Hm? Seriously?” Mark’s eyes widened. “You were thinking about having kids with Yuta?”

“No, no,” Taeyong said. “The thing before that…”

Mark’s smile turned sympathetic. “Aw. You were thinking about kissing him?”

“Aww,” Lucas said in the background. Taeyong looked up into the corner of his room, trying to ignore the blood rushing to his face.

“Shiiit,” said Mark in English.

“And _then_ ,” Taeyong said, “I met his friend from beauty school named Ten and Ten was all like, ‘ _oh, my god, you’re in love with him_ ,’ and the second he said it, I felt like…like I was… _fuck_ …”

“Seen,” Mark said, nodding.

Taeyong sighed.

“So you’re in love with your best friend,” said Mark. He was still nodding over steepled fingers, the phone balanced on a flat surface in front of him.

The piece of paper Taeyong had been toying with suddenly tore in his hands. He looked down at it in surprise.

“And you haven’t told him,” Mark went on.

“Mark, I can’t tell him.”

“Okay, but why?”

Taeyong sighed. “There’s no reason to ruin the best friendship I’ll ever have over…something like that.”

“No reason,” said Mark, “except for the chance at the best _relationship_ you’ll ever have.”

“He doesn’t feel that way about me,” said Taeyong.

“Neither did you until like last week! Or at least, you thought you didn’t. Maybe he’s—”

“He would have told me,” Taeyong said.

Mark frowned. “Logic…flawed…”

“ _Plus_ ,” Taeyong said as something new occurred to him, “Yuta doesn’t date! He hasn’t had a serious boyfriend like, ever!”

“Okay, number _one_ —”

“He’s literally too independent for a relationship. He wouldn’t—”

“Has it ever occurred to you,” said Mark, “like, has it ever once crossed your mind that Yuta doesn’t date because he’s, I don’t know, fulfilled by the relationships he already has in his life?”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you, stupid,” said Mark. “He’s happy with what he has with you. He doesn’t need someone else.”

“If he’s happy with what he has with me,” said Taeyong, “then that means he’s happy with being friends. He doesn’t want…he doesn’t want to…”

“I mean, isn’t that the reason _you_ don’t date?” Mark interrupted. “Because you have Yuta?”

“Well…” Taeyong thought back to his teenage years. There had been a few stormy crushes before he met Yuta, though he hadn’t known what they were at the time, and then a few more after. Each seemed paler than the one before it. Taeyong had always assumed it was because he was growing up, growing out of his squally adolescence. Now he saw the fleeting infatuations paling not in comparison with one another, but in comparison to the depth of his relationship with Yuta, which doubled and redoubled as the years had passed. Taeyong had had boyfriends, two, but neither had lasted long—one had “no spark” and the other was “boring,” which Yuta had told him were the same thing. “No one gets me like you,” Taeyong remembered telling Yuta three years ago in the detached disappointment of his second breakup, and Yuta had said with a nod, “Well that’s the point of a best friend, isn’t it?”

Taeyong shook his head to clear the memory from his mind. “I don’t date because there’s only one person I _want_ to date. There’s a difference between that and being satisfied with the relationships you already have.”

“Okay, but you don’t _know_ that Yuta hasn’t wanted to date you all along. Maybe—”

“You know Yuta, he says what he’s thinking and how he’s feeling.”

“Unless he doesn’t know how he feels,” Mark said, “again, the same way you didn’t _until last week—_ ”

“Two days ago, actually,” said Taeyong.

Mark threw up his hands.

“Look. I’m not going to tell him. I can’t. Not yet,” Taeyong said. The mere thought of saying it—of stumbling over the words, blushing and breathless, while Yuta’s lips rounded into a surprised O and then turned up in an indulgent, pitying smile—was enough to knock the wind out of his lungs.

“Not yet. Not yet? So when?”

Taeyong shook his head. “Just…Mark…”

“When the song competition’s over in June?” Mark said. “Or when he gets out of cosmetic school? When he gets married and you’re his best man?”

“Mark, can y—”

“When you’re like 90 and on your deathbed and stewing in the regrets of—”

“ _Mark._ ”

“Fine, whatever,” said Mark, holding up his hands. “But don’t come crying to me when he gets a boyfriend and you realize you missed your chance.”

Taeyong looked out the window.

Just then he heard the apartment door open, and Yuta yodeled a “helloooo” from the entryway. Taeyong looked at Mark with wide eyes, mouth clamping shut.

“Is that him?” said Mark.

Taeyong nodded hastily and whispered, “Bye, I love you.”

“Why are you whispering?”

Yuta’s voice carried down the hallway. “I’m hooooome and I have strawberries…Max, do you ever shut the fuck up…”

“Well, bye. Love you too,” said Mark, and then smirked. “Good luck, lovebird.”

“Shhh!”

“He can’t hear me, Taey—”

“BYE,” Taeyong said and hung up the phone, tossing it onto the pillow and scurrying down the ladder from his lofted bed. He opened his bedroom door to peer down the hall. Yuta was in the kitchen, scrambling to yank Max away from a bag of groceries. He was wearing the same worn brown leather jacket he always wore. It was too light for the cold January weather, but Yuta said that puffy coats didn’t fit his “aesthetic.” Taeyong thought that was stupid. There in the kitchen chasing after Max, hair in his eyes, Yuta looked stunning, stupid coat and all.

Taeyong’s feet carried him down the hall and into the kitchen. Yuta looked up, and his smile was like light pouring through parted curtains.

“Guess what I picked up while I was out,” said Yuta.

Taeyong, who was thinking about grabbing Yuta’s face and kissing it all over, said, “Oh uhh,” and then bent his knees to wrap his arms around Max’s fat belly. Max was an enormous cat, with an enormous appetite and an even bigger attitude. Jaehyun always said that they should dye his fur purple so he’d look like the Cheshire Cat from _Alice in Wonderland_.

“Tae?” Yuta said.

“Strawberries?” Taeyong answered finally, standing up with the cat under his arm.

Yuta pointed at him and said, “Wrong!”

Max meowed.

“What? You just said—”

“Well, yes, yeah, I brought strawberries, but I meant something else.”

“Since when am I a ‘ _something_ ’?” said a voice, and Taeyong jumped three feet into the air.

“You’re a ‘something’ because you’re more of a creature than a person,” Yuta said to the boy behind them, who was draped upside-down on the couch with his legs hooked over the back and head hanging off the edge of the seat.

“Too true,” the boy, whom Taeyong had never seen before, sighed wistfully. “I’m a fairy-demon hybrid, after all. My mother and father madly fell in love despite the blood rivalry between their families, and now I am caught between two worlds, possessing blood of both but belonging in neither, forever doomed to roam the human realm because neither the fairies nor the demons will accept me…”

“What the fuck,” Taeyong said.

“Taeyong, meet my own personal barnacle,” said Yuta. He heaved a bag of rice into the cabinet. “He latched onto me at beauty school and I don’t know how to shake him loose.”

“‘ _Barnacle_ ,’ don’t you think that’s a little generous? I’m more like a parasite. Sucking the life out of you and shit.” The kid puckered his lips and made a sucking sound.

Taeyong looked at Yuta, who shrugged, a helplessly fond smile on his face.

“So you’re the famed Taeyong,” said the boy. He shimmied into a standing position seemingly instantaneously and then bowed with a flourish, only stopping when his nose was nearly touching the floor. In a deep voice, he intoned, “It is a most extraordinary pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

Taeyong bowed back, but the kid didn’t see with his face to the ground. “Um. Nice to meet you.”

“His name’s Donghyuck,” said Yuta.

“But!” the boy said, springing up again. “You can call me Haechan.”

“Haechan,” repeated Taeyong.

“Yes, Haechan, as in, _full of sun_ , as in, bright summer days, as in, lighting up the world just by existing—”

“Just call him Hyuck,” Yuta said.

“Oh, sure, and we’ll just call you _Ta_ ,” snapped Donghyuck informally. Yuta cut him a look. Donghyuck recoiled and said with exaggerated respect, “Ah, ah, yes, ‘Hyuck’ is just fine,” before skipping off to the couch again.

“He’s incredible,” said Taeyong to Yuta.

“He’s going to get his ass beat someday,” said Yuta, and shook a jar of peanut butter in Haechan’s direction. “Don’t you get a headache from hanging upside-down like that, you fucking gargoyle?”

“A headache? Nah. More like a head rush.” The boy snapped his fingers. “Makes you sharper. More alert. Ah. Feels good.”

“Weirdo,” said Yuta. He was grinning again.

Taeyong looked back and forth between them. Donghyuck fluttered his fingers in a dainty, upside-down wave.

Taeyong turned back to Yuta and said, “So he’s…”

“I found him in the back of the supermarket up to his ankles in packets of tea cookies,” Yuta said. “I had to rescue him. He was practically swimming in them.”

“Tea cookies?”

“You may not be aware of this,” said Donghyuck, “but tea cookies are in fact the only food on Earth that agrees with the rather fastidious palates of both fairies _and_ demons. As such, my own appetite for them is doubly acute.”

“Uh…huh,” Taeyong said.

“He knocked down a display of them,” Yuta explained.

“That’s misinformation! The display just crashed down on top of me,” Donghyuck said. “Through no fault of my own.”

“Right. Anyway, he was standing in the middle of this huge pile of tea cookies and I couldn’t just leave him there,” Yuta said, “so I dug him out and brought him here.”

“The most impressive part is that he managed to do _all_ that without buying me a single packet of tea cookies in the process,” Donghyuck said.

“You should be grateful I didn’t just pretend I never saw you and keep walking.”

“Ten would have bought me some,” Donghyuck grumbled.

Yuta flung a bag of chips overhand at his face. He caught it deftly, opened it and started to eat them.

“If I had known there would be so many interesting characters at beauty school, I would have gone with you,” Taeyong said to Yuta.

Yuta, who was looking at Donghyuck with his arms folded, glanced to Taeyong, and his lips turned up. “I wish you had,” he said.

Taeyong’s eyes focused on the floor. “I’d be pretty shit at it all, though.”

Donghyuck spoke from the couch. “At least then we’d have more than 3 boys in the program. And more than 4 homos.”

“There _might_ be more than 4 homos in our class,” Yuta said, returning to the groceries. “You never know until you know, you know?”

“Wait, you, Ten…Donghyuck…?” said Taeyong, counting on his fingers.

“The fourth is this girl named Kang Seulgi,” Donghyuck said through a mouthful of chips.

“She’s our age,” said Yuta.

“She’s the hottest girl I’ve ever met!” said Donghyuck.

“If I were straight, oh my _god_ , the crush I would have on Kang Seulgi,” Yuta said almost reverently.

“Lucky for her you’re not straight,” Donghyuck said.

“Shut it, swamp creature.”

“Yuta,” said Taeyong, looking at his phone, “Johnny’s texting me about February birthdays. Are we still down to have the party here?”

Yuta opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Donghyuck was saying, “Party? Party who? I heard party. What party? When party? Why party?”

“Three of our friends have birthdays in February,” Yuta told him, “so they have a joint birthday party every year. Well, more of a get-together than a party. Taeyong, tell h—”

“Hey, what a coincidence! My birthday’s in February too!” Donghyuck said with an exuberant wave of the bag of chips.

“Really?” said Yuta in surprise.

“No. It’s June 6th. But can I go to the party anyway?”

“Oh, no wonder, you’re a Gemini,” said Taeyong, and Max gave a curt yowl in agreement.

Donghyuck sighed dramatically and said, “ _Just_ when I was starting to like you. You know something, Mr. Visuals Bot, Geminis are extremely misunderstood, but the true part of our reputation is that we’re the only damn sign with any talent around here.”

“Visuals bot?” said Taeyong confusedly.

“Don’t call him that,” Yuta said sharply.

Taeyong looked at Yuta and asked, “What does that even mean?” and Yuta shook his head, “No clue.”

“It’s a compliment, but whatever. Anyway, I identify far more strongly with my moon and ascendant,” Donghyuck said.

“What year were you born?” said Taeyong, following Yuta to sit opposite him on the couch, while Donghyuck continued to crunch on chips between them.

“Zero zero,” said Donghyuck between chips.

“Aw,” said Taeyong, “you’re only a year younger than my little brother.”

Donghyuck immediately sat straight up, an impressive feat considering he had just been upside-down. “You have a little brother? Is he cute? Is he gay?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Yuta.

“Yeah, he’s cute, or yeah he’s gay?”

“Uh…well he’s really cute,” said Yuta with a glance at Taeyong, who was frowning at him, “but…he’s not sure about labels right now?”

“Oh! Well, labels, schmabels. Is his birthday one of the February ones? You can take care of your birthday present to him by inviting me to the party. My presence will blow everyone else’s gifts out of the water.”

“Oh, he’s not February,” said Taeyong. “He was born on August…August, uh…”

“Ninth?” said Yuta.

“No, it’s…”

“I’m _sure_ it’s in the single digits,” said Yuta.

“How do you not know your own brother’s birthday,” said Donghyuck with his nose scrunched up.

“To be fair, they’re stepbrothers,” said Yuta, reaching around Donghyuck to pluck the bag of chips out of his grasp. “Their parents only got together like 6 years ago.”

Donghyuck turned to Taeyong. “So you guys don’t, like, share any of the same DNA?”

“Um, no.”

“Well that’s disappointing,” said Donghyuck. “I was so excited to see a version of your face that hadn’t aged past its prime yet.”

Yuta smacked the back of Donghyuck’s head.

“ _Ow!_ ”

“Don’t talk to him like that.”

“But I make dumb ageist jokes about you all the time!” Donghyuck whined, grabbing for the chips, which Yuta held further away. Donghyuck pouted and threw himself back into his previous upside-down position.

“It’s okay,” Taeyong said, “it was kind of funny.”

“So anyway, that party,” said Donghyuck again.

“I was already going to invite you and Ten anyway, if you had even a split second of patience,” said Yuta.

“And Kang Seulgi?” Donghyuck said.

“Hell no. Kang Seulgi’s way to cool to want to hang out with us.”

Taeyong, punching at his phone keyboard, said, “Heads up, Yuta, they want to have the thing in two weeks.”

“Sure,” said Yuta.

“Jesus, Max,” Taeyong said to the cat, who was pouring his heart into a violent screech after several minutes of struggling to escape Taeyong’s arms.

“Oh, my god,” said Donghyuck, who had righted himself on the couch and was squinting at the cat. Max fixed him with a sullen glare. Donghyuck shrieked suddenly and leapt into Yuta’s lap, wrapping his arms around Yuta’s neck.

“What, what?”

“Bad news, fellas,” Donghyuck said in a stage whisper. “Your cat’s a demon.”

Yuta grunted. “Well that’s no surprise.”

“He’s not a demon, he’s a baby!” Taeyong said at the same time.

“Uh uh,” said Donghyuck. He was peering between his fingers. “I know a fellow demon when I see one.”

When Donghyuck finally left an hour later, chirping a cheerful goodbye to Taeyong and hissing at the cat, Taeyong found himself alone with his best friend again. It was unnerving, this sudden reframing of emotions he’d thought he understood: it was as if the camera lens through which he viewed his life had shifted a degree or two, and suddenly he was seeing his world at new angles, only slightly different but somehow vastly unfamiliar. With his notebook open on his lap and Yuta’s feet crossed on his knee, all Taeyong could think about was how Yuta, stretched out on the couch with his head propped on the opposite armrest, looked like a book character or an actor in a drama—too good to be true, too vivid, belonging perhaps in another city or another universe. Certainly not in this shabby apartment. Yuta had always been the brightest figure in the room for Taeyong—always drawing his gaze, always drawing his feet towards him—but suddenly Taeyong wanted to take him away, far away from here, away from the old plaid couch and the walls with their cracked beige paint, to an island sunrise or the top of a mountain, a place where the beauty around them might match the beauty shining from Yuta himself.

When Yuta looked up from his phone and saw Taeyong looking at him, he smiled. “What?”

“What? I didn’t say anything,” said Taeyong and looked back down at his notebook.

“You were looking at me like you wanted to say something,” said Yuta.

“No, I wasn’t!”

“O- _kay_. No need to be prickly.”

“I mean—sorry. I just wasn’t saying anything. I’m…” Taeyong shrugged and felt a blush creeping up his neck. _Again?_ “I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” said Yuta, eyeing him with his perfect eyes. They really were perfect. Stupid perfect. Taeyong had always thought Yuta’s face was perfect, especially his fairytale-prince lips, but the effect that perfection had on him seemed to be evolving rapidly.

He dipped his head down in an attempt to angle his reddening face away from Yuta, focusing on the notebook in his lap. He knew that hiding his face was the wrong move in an instant, though, even before he felt Yuta’s heel lift from his knee as Yuta sat up to crawl closer to him.

When he looked up, Yuta was regarding him with his forehead deeply creased and his mouth screwed up into a half-pout, half-duck face. A smile melted across Taeyong’s face in spite of himself. Yuta smiled, mirror-like, and said, “What’s up with you lately?”

“What do you _mean_ , what’s up with me?” Taeyong said, rolling his eyes a little too hard.

“You’ve just been a little…like…” Yuta sat back and thought for a second. “…out of it, I guess.”

“Out of it? Me?” Taeyong snorted. “No…”

“Yeah huh. Like, for a couple weeks, but especially last night. You don’t usually hit on strangers, and god forbid it’s a _straight_ one.”

Taeyong barely remembered talking to the bartender at all, and didn’t want to. “I was just…I was _drunk_ …”

“Yeah, but usually you’re a cuddly drunk, not a flirty drunk. You didn’t even hug me once last night! Usually I can barely peel your arms off from around my neck.”

Taeyong looked away and said, “If you wanted a hug, all you had to do was ask for one.”

“No, that’s not the point, I mean you just seemed _weird_ , and today you’re all…” Yuta raised a hand to Taeyong’s face and Taeyong gave a start, recoiling.

“See? That! You’re all jumpy,” said Yuta and brushed at the corner of Taeyong’s eye. “Your eyeliner’s fucked up,” he explained, “and you _never_ let your eyeliner get fucked up,” and he licked his thumb and swiped at Taeyong’s eyeliner as he continued, while Taeyong did his best not to flinch. “You’re always jumpy, and when you’re not jumpy, you’re, like, glassy-eyed.”

“No I’m not,” Taeyong mumbled, fiddling with the wire binding of his notebook.

“Taeyong,” said Yuta, and dropped his hand, apparently satisfied with the quick makeup repair job he’d done. “I didn’t say anything at first because I figured you would bring it up when you were ready, but like…I can tell something’s bothering you, you know?”

Taeyong breathed through his nose. If he kept denying it, he’d just sound stupid, and more likely than not, Yuta would be hurt and think that Taeyong didn’t trust him. But how could he tell him…? “No, no, it’s not…It’s not that anything bad happened. It’s nothing like that, Yuta, seriously. I just…I just…”

As Taeyong grasped for words, his eyes lit upon his notebook, where he had been struggling for months to come up with something for the song competition at the end of June. When the competition had opened last September, he had planned to write three or four songs and then decide which one to submit with Mark’s help. But whatever spark of inspiration he’d felt at the beginning of the contest had quickly stagnated. Taeyong was starting to fear he’d have to submit one of the awful tracks he’d written in high school and college.

“It…it’s this _song!_ ” he exclaimed with a loud slap to the paper, and Yuta’s eyes dropped to the page, which was full of empty scribbles. “I can’t manage to get anything decent down!”

“‘ _Standing at the edge of your ocean but I don’t know how to swim…’_ ” Yuta read aloud from the notebook, and Taeyong snapped it shut. Yuta blinked. Usually he was welcome to read over Taeyong’s work, even in the early stages.

“It’s shit,” Taeyong muttered in explanation and cradled the notebook to his chest.

“Nuh uh,” said Yuta. “That bit was nice.”

Taeyong shook his head. “It’s juvenile,” he said. “This song has to be the best of the best. It has to hit...”

“It does hit,” Yuta said, a pout creeping into his voice.

“No, like, every line has to hit _perfectly_ , every line has to be good enough to stand alone but has to fit into the flow of the rest of the song too, like, in a balance...”

Yuta gave Taeyong’s ear a tug to stop him. Taeyong begrudgingly turned to look at him.

“I’m a little concerned,” said Yuta, playing with Taeyong’s earring, “that you’re letting your perfectionist self inhibit your artist self.”

Taeyong let his head tilt into Yuta’s hand. “No I’m not.”

“Yeah huh,” Yuta said with a gentle smile.

“Artist self and perfectionist self go hand in hand,” Taeyong said. Yuta brushed his hair out of his face as he spoke. “They need each other to produce anything good.”

“But they can only do that if you don’t let one overpower the other, right?” said Yuta, continuing to run his fingertips over Taeyong’s fringe. His touch was so soft. Sweet. Taeyong closed his eyes.

“Aw,” said Yuta. “Tired?”

_Nope, just really in love_ , Taeyong thought, and then he said aloud, “Have you ever thought about moving somewhere?”

Yuta’s fingers on Taeyong’s brow stilled. “Moving…?”

Taeyong opened his eyes. He wasn’t sure where that had come from. “Yeah, like _moving_ moving, like somewhere different.”

“We just moved though?” Yuta’s hand rested on the side of Taeyong’s neck. “Do you not like the apartment?”

“No! No, I love the apartment. It’s close to the guys and Mark and we both have our own rooms…I mean, like, out of Seoul. Somewhere pretty. Like, another country or something, I don’t know.”

Yuta considered this. “Japan’s pretty.”

“No, I mean…somewhere different! Where we’ve never been. Where no one’s ever been.”

“Hmm. Where no one’s ever been?” Yuta looked around. “You mean, like, way deep in the rainforest or something?”

“Yeah, or like…a deserted island,” Taeyong said. “Somewhere nobody else would bother us, you know? Where it’s just us two…”

Hearing himself, he fell silent abruptly.

“But it’s just us two right now,” said Yuta.

Taeyong glanced at Yuta out of the corner of his eye. Yuta was smiling earnestly.

“I’m gonna go for a run!” Taeyong said and sprang up from the couch, his notebook falling from his lap to the floor with a thump.

“Huh?”

“Gotta get the butterflies out of my stomach. Uh! I mean! Get out of the house. Gotta get out of the house. My stomach…is still hungover, I need to run it off…” Taeyong blathered.

“I mean, if you say so. Can I come?” Yuta said.

Taeyong paused and looked at Yuta. He looked so sincere.

“What do you mean, can you come? You can do whatever you want,” Taeyong said.

Yuta shrugged. “No, yeah, I just didn’t know if you wanted alone time or something.”

“You’re the best person in the whole world,” said Taeyong.

Yuta laughed. “Yeah, well, that’s my brand, good to see it’s catching on.”

Taeyong swallowed and said, “Aren’t you supposed to say, ‘No, _you’re_ the best…’” as Yuta went around him.

“Oh, please. As if you don’t already know I think you’re the universe’s most precious creation.” Yuta’s voice trailed off down the hall.

Taeyong stood in the living room until Yuta emerged a minute later in joggers, saying, “Okay, I have my—Taeyong?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing just standing there?”

“Honestly,” said Taeyong, “I have no idea. Let me get my sneakers.”

“Cutie,” said Yuta as Taeyong passed him.

_When am I going to get used to this?_ Taeyong asked himself as he tied his shoes. Maybe he had to give himself a few days. To reacclimate to the way things were. He could hear Yuta singing a TVXQ song in the kitchen: “ _I look into the distance on this endless line, and the moment our eyes meet I know that even though we’re a little slow, you’re getting closer to me and I’m getting closer to you…_ ”


	3. love line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love line / tvxq!

Of course, if Taeyong was honest with himself, the whole thing had started long before Yuta sang him an abridged version of “Through the Night” over FaceTime from the dimly lit Rainbow Bar bathroom. That night was only the first time he consciously noticed it. When he thought about in the following weeks, though, he could clearly see the path he’d followed to this point: a long sweeping line like an asymptotic curve, always bringing him closer to Yuta’s axis without ever meeting or drawing parallel to it. Suddenly, looking back, it all seemed a bit…well, inevitable. Dispassionately so, and in a way that Taeyong would never tell Yuta, who believed that humans had invented the idea of destiny to make themselves feel better about the grotesque randomness of the universe; but inevitable nonetheless.

The nearly nine-year-long line was dotted with little moments, like stepping stones, that Taeyong identified one by one as turning points in the way he felt about Yuta. In the way Yuta made him feel. The first point, of course, was the day they met: two days into a four-week summer camp for the arts, in an unairconditioned classroom in downtown Seoul with twenty other fourteen-to-sixteen-year-olds all avoiding eye contact with one another. The camp hadn’t transitioned out of the team-bonding stage yet, and Taeyong was getting tired of making conversation with the awkward people surrounding him, most of whom lived far outside the city and whom he’d never see again after this summer. The instructor told everyone to take a seat and Taeyong had sat down in the front, wondering when the friend-making activities would cease and the music-related ones would begin.

Taeyong occupied himself on his phone until the instructor announced that they were to pair off with the people beside them and draw colored-pencil portraits of one another. That was when he turned and looked, for the first time, into the eyes of Nakamoto Yuta.

Taeyong knew who he was, of course—they had all been forced to introduce themselves in front of the group earlier on, and either way Yuta was hard to miss, with his big eyes and sharp angles. He was the only foreigner at the camp and his Korean was fragmented, despite which, or perhaps because of which, everyone in the group regarded him with a kind of awed curiosity. So far, Taeyong had been too busy being bored to pay him much attention. But as soon as they made eye contact, he forgot his jadedness entirely.

“Hi, I’m Taeyong,” he’d said, and Yuta had nodded.

“I remember. I’m Yuta.”

“Where are you from?”

“Japan.”

“Hello!” Taeyong had said enthusiastically in Japanese. This prompted a luminous smile that transformed Yuta’s blankly intimidating demeanor into a veritable beacon of warmth. “How are you?” Taeyong went on, eager to make Yuta’s smile widen.

Yuta said something in Japanese that Taeyong didn’t understand. When Taeyong looked at him vacantly, Yuta threw back his head and laughed.

“What?” Taeyong said in Korean.

“Nothing,” Yuta said, also in Korean. “You’re pretty good at Japanese. But my Korean is better.”

“How long have you been learning?” Taeyong said, genuinely curious.

Yuta shrugged. “Four…Five? Four years. But I moved here last month.”

“Here?” Taeyong said excitedly, and Yuta looked up. “Here, like, to Seoul?” Taeyong asked.

“Yes, I live in Songpa,” Yuta said.

“So do I!”

Yuta brightened, that smile taking over his face. “Really?”

“Yeah!”

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen,” Taeyong told him.

“Me too!” Yuta accepted the pieces of paper the instructor handed to him, passing one to Taeyong. “So we can talk informally, right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You’re so pale, I don’t know what color to use for your skin except white,” Yuta said, digging around in a bin of colored pencils on the desk.

Taeyong felt a little flush rise to his cheeks. He hoped Yuta wouldn’t notice it. “Just use a peach one,” he said. “That’s what I’m using for you.”

“I’m sorry for sitting down next to you, I know it’ll be very hard to capture all my good looks on paper,” Yuta said in a tone of mock mournfulness.

Taeyong tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. “Well…I’m always up for a challenge. Besides, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know we’d have to draw each other.”

“Yes I did,” said Yuta without looking up from his paper.

“Hm?”

“I looked at Haeun’s…Haeun’s…paper thing when we walked in.”

“Her clipboard,” said Taeyong.

“Yeah. Clipboard.” Yuta glanced up finally, his smile a little shyer than before. “I wanted to draw you, so…”

“Me? Why?”

“You’re very cute,” Yuta said.

Taeyong looked down at his hands, which were twiddling with a colored pencil that he hadn’t touched to paper yet. “Cute?”

“Yeah. You have a really cute face.” Yuta laughed a little.

“I always thought my face is too cold-looking,” Taeyong found himself admitting, and immediately afterwards flushed self-consciously.

“ _Cold-_ looking?”

“Yeah…or too, like, sharp?” Taeyong scrawled an egglike oval that looked nothing like Yuta’s face shape on the paper in front of him. “It’s just, sometimes, people say I’m…I look scary, or something, I don’t know. Never mind. It’s dumb, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t look scary,” Yuta said, eyes roaming over Taeyong’s face seriously. “You don’t look like any of that. You’re a soft, warm little cutie.”

Taeyong couldn’t help but giggle when Yuta called him a “cutie” in his thick accent. “Ah…thanks,” he said.

“Seriously, you are,” Yuta said, returning his attention to the portrait.

They drew in silence, occasionally meeting each other’s eyes and exchanging smiles as they studied each other’s faces. Taeyong quickly realized that Yuta had been right when he said that his handsomeness didn’t translate onto paper well, at least not in Taeyong’s hands. The gentle curve of his cheeks looked chubby in the portrait, his strong nose was suddenly too pointy, and his eyes weren’t lined up properly. Taeyong hadn’t even dared to try to draw Yuta’s smile.

“Wow, you could probably be an idol if you wanted,” Yuta said. Taeyong looked up, but Yuta was staring down at his paper, not at Taeyong. “I bet all the big companies would let you in, looking like that.”

“You like idol music?” Taeyong said.

“TVXQ is really good,” Yuta said. “I like Max.”

Taeyong knew of TVXQ, of course, but he wasn’t sure he could pick Max out of a lineup. Still, he nodded. “Yeah. They’re cool.”

“Do you like idol groups?”

Taeyong shrugged and said, “I don’t know. I like Boa. And SNSD is super hot…”

A smirk crossed over Yuta’s face, and—was it an eye roll? Taeyong wasn’t sure what he’d said wrong. “Yeah, they’re really pretty,” Yuta said.

“Okay, guys,” their instructor interrupted, clapping her hands so everyone’s heads turned to the front. “It’s time to reveal your portraits. Remember, it doesn’t have to be perfect, it’s just for fun.”

Yuta laughed at the look of horror on Taeyong’s face, and grabbed for the portrait. Taeyong clutched it close to his chest. “No! I need more time!”

“It’s fine, didn’t you hear? It’s just for fun,” Yuta said, and successfully snatched the paper out of Taeyong’s hands. When he saw the lopsided egg-Yuta that Taeyong had drawn, he choked out a laugh and held it at arm’s distance.

“It wasn’t done!”

The expression on Yuta’s face was pained, but his laughter was warm. “Wow,” he gasped out, “it looks just like me…”

“I’m not an artist,” Taeyong said, scowling at his hands.

“Then why are you at an _arts camp?_ ” Yuta said, surprising Taeyong by reaching out to pat his cheek, as if to soften the teasing.

“Because we have the opportunity to survey _all_ the arts here,” Taeyong said, unconsciously quoting the camp’s website that he’d spent hours exploring at the end of the school year. “Literature, music. Well, I wanted to go take a music course, but my parents wouldn’t let me. This camp was the only thing I could convince them of, since some classes are given in English.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t take the music course,” Yuta said, “because then we would not have met here.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Then Taeyong nodded at the paper in Yuta’s hands and said, “Lemme see yours.”

Yuta surrendered the paper without protest and Taeyong was stunned to find himself faced with a faithful representation of his own visage. Yuta hadn’t finished filling in the black of Taeyong’s hair, but the rest was startlingly realistic: the shadow of his lips over his chin, the angle of his jaw, and especially the shape of his eyes. The Taeyong on paper was extra beautiful, but not cartoonishly so—more in a way that indicated a talent for finding and highlighting the subject’s strong points.

“Wow,” Taeyong managed, “this is…”

Yuta leaned over the portrait and said, “I don’t know if I drew your nose right. But everything else is okay.”

“No, it’s…Did you put _makeup_ on me?” Taeyong said, finally getting over his bewilderment at the authenticity of the likeness long enough to notice the florid purple around his eyes, the slightly lighter shade of lavender on his lips.

Yuta drew back. “Are you mad?”

“Mad? Uh…no,” Taeyong answered, running a fingertip over the silvery purple lips.

“I just thought it would look nice,” Yuta said, leaning closer again to look at the portrait with a critical gaze. “Maybe I should have done pink instead of purple.”

“Pink would be…” Taeyong didn’t finish. The word on the tip of his tongue had been “girly,” but he didn’t want it to come out sounding negative, because in a way, it was nice, just like Yuta had said. And anyway, was purple any less girly? It was makeup either way. Instead, he changed direction. “I couldn’t do this if I had a week,” he said, “and you just did it in twenty minutes. This is crazy, Yuta.”

Yuta seemed to know exactly how good he was. “Thanks.”

“Um…can I keep it?” Taeyong asked.

“Only if I can keep this masterpiece,” Yuta said, regarding the egglike Yuta with a mixture of revulsion and fondness.

Egg Yuta, sporting Taeyong’s signature that he’d added two months after its conception and considerably faded after years of taking in sun on Yuta’s bedroom walls, now leered out over the living room and into the kitchen from its position above the couch. Yuta had insisted on giving it a new “place of honor” after the move. Gazing at it now, as it hung within its rainbow-striped frame, Taeyong wondered how things might have been different if he had known he liked boys back when he and Yuta met. At the time, he hadn’t quite wrapped his head around the fact that he was gay—he hadn’t allowed himself to, yet. So whatever non-platonic feelings that might have arisen during that first conversation were summarily and steadfastly ignored. The flush when Yuta called him cute; the quick trust he felt towards him without quite knowing why; even the embarrassed flicker of curiosity at the flamboyant shades of purple the portrait: all brushed off without a second thought. Maybe, he thought as Yuta lit the jasmine-scented candles scattered around the room and Hyuck chattered about climate change, if he’d had all his gay shit figured out the first time he came face to face with Nakamoto Yuta, he would have been aware of his real feelings from the start, and maybe…maybe…things would have gone differently.

“So like if everyone agreed to ditch cars and just _bike_ places, or like, take the fucking subway,” Hyuck was expounding, “we’d last a whole ’nother ten years before the ozone burned up and we all died of asphyxiation while the four trees left on Earth laugh at us. Isn’t that worth a try? Ten more years of oxygen?”

“Who says anyone wants ten more years of oxygen,” said Sicheng, tucked into Taeil’s side on the couch.

“Okay, Snarkypants, very effective argument. The point is…”

“Y’all should start thinking about saving the bees before we set out to tackle the ozone layer,” said Johnny, who was helping Taeyong cut onions for dinner.

“ _Bees!_ ” Donghuck protested.

Jaehyun said, “You’re prioritizing insects over literal air—”

“The lil’ motherfuckers are responsible for the germination of like 200% of our food! They work their little bee asses off day in and day out and don’t get an ounce of credit. News flash, without the bees we all starve.”

“Johnny, are you crying?” Sicheng asked.

“IT’S THE ONIONS!”

“This is all very nice and well, but may I remind you that without oxygen, the bees will ALSO asphyxiate and die,” said Hyuck. “Of course, we’re all careening towards destruction anyway—”

“Oh, stop exaggerating, Hyuckie,” said Ten with an indulgent smile. It was the same smile Yuta looked at Donghyuck with, Taeyong thought.

“—but doesn’t anyone feel a duty to try and wipe up some of the mess we’ve made before we’re gone? Even if all we have to clean it up with is, like, two used tissues and the last square of toilet paper on the toilet paper roll that the last asshole to take a shit never replaced?”

“This guy is one serious flaming load of funky,” Johnny said in Taeyong’s ear as he reached over him for a pepper to cut up.

Taeyong said, “He has this act going that he’s a demon fairy and I’ve never seen him break character.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow.

“Look, I love your passion. Okay? A+ for enthusiasm,” Yuta was saying to Hyuck. His eyes were focused on the flame he held to the wick of a jasmine candle on the coffee table. “But you have to frame your rhetoric in the lens of hope. How are you going to motivate people to care about the environment if you go around saying the environment’s already done for? There’s a—”

“The environment _is_ already done for,” said Doyoung. Everyone in the room turned towards the sound of his voice. He was heaving two enormous cases of beer through the open door and down the front hallway. “China and the U.S. made sure of that.”

“Chill,” said Sicheng, while Donghyuck piped, “Finally! Someone else who knows what they’re talking about!”

Doyoung looked around. “Who’s the kid?”

“Kid.” Hyuck snorted. “It’s cute how he doesn’t know that I’m eight-thousand, four-hundred and forty-five years old.”

“Ha! I got you! Last week you said eight-thousand, four-hundred and fifty-four!” said Yuta.

“You must have misheard,” Hyuck simpered.

The two dissolved into bickering. Taeyong finished washing sesame oil from his hands and turned to wrap his arms around Doyoung’s waist. “Happy happy birthday, Doyoungie,” he singsonged, and squeezed his arms the way he knew Doyoung hated.

“Thanks, Yong. God, can you get off,” Doyoung said, wrestling his way out of Taeyong’s hug.

“That’s Donghyuck,” said Taeyong, pointing before returning to the pad thai recipe he was attempting. It had turned out that Ten’s birthday was also in February. When Yuta had announced to him proudly that they were having Thai food for dinner, Ten had smiled and said, “It was Taeyong’s idea, wasn’t it?”

Doyoung seemed to recognize Donghyuck’s name. “Oh. Yuta’s cosmetic school friend?”

“Mhm.”

“Interesting choice of décor, by the way,” said Doyoung and nodded to egg Yuta glowering in his rainbow frame over the couch.

“It’s a conversation piece!” shouted Yuta from the other side of the room.

“So that’s what we’re calling it,” said Doyoung.

“Quite handy at a party,” Hyuck mused as he craned his neck to look at the drawing above him. “You can use that as a jumping-off point for discussions about modern art, identity representation, the way kids today are stupider than we were at their age, anything.”

Taeyong tuned the boys out as he cut raw chicken into chunks. Johnny was humming an American song Taeyong recognized but couldn’t identify. It was the first time in a while that they’d gotten everyone together. After Johnny, Yuta and Taeyong had graduated from the university nearly a year earlier, it had been more difficult to get the whole gang in one place. It felt good. Cozy. At the end of a long week where all he’d thought about was Yuta, the song competition, and Yuta some more, the boys’ presence took some of the pressure off.

Taeyong glanced towards the couch, where Yuta had planted himself next to Sicheng. Max was curled in his lap, and he was spinning the lighter idly in one hand. As Taeyong watched, Yuta gave Sicheng a poke on the cheek. Sicheng ducked away with a muttered reproach, and Yuta laughed adoringly. Yuta had always been downright gooey for Sicheng. Once, it had made both Taeyong and Sicheng’s boyfriend Taeil a little wary. Now Taeil only laughed and poked Yuta’s cheek in return, which made Sicheng lean into Taeil and stick his tongue out at Yuta smugly. Yuta giggled and poked both their cheeks at once, at which point the giggling tripled.

_Why doesn’t he ever poke my cheek like that_ , Taeyong thought.

“Hey, Flower Boy,” said Hyuck, and Taeyong jumped. Hyuck had sidled up to him and was cracking open a beer.

Taeyong frowned. “Hey! Are you of age?”

“Obviously? I’m eight-thousand, four-hundred and forty-five,” Hyuck said with a slurp.

Taeyong narrowed his eyes.

“If you _must_ know, my age in _human_ years is twenty,” said Hyuck.

“Oh, okay.”

“When’s dinnertime?”

“Like a half hour.”

“But Taeyongggg, I’m staaarving,” whined Hyuck, rubbing his belly for effect.

“You’re not the only one,” said Johnny.

“I am, however, the only one with demon blood running through my veins, and demons, as I’m sure you’re fully aware,” Hyuck said, “are cursed with unsatisfiable appetites. No matter how much we eat, we’re always hungry.”

“Ah,” said Johnny. “I see.”

“It’s a tragic fate, I know,” said Hyuck, snaking a hand under Taeyong’s elbow to snatch a chunk of a pepper. Taeyong slapped at his hand, but Hyuck was too fast. “But then again, I guess we deserve it. We’re pure evil after all,” said Hyuck, chomping.

Taeyong huffed and put his fists on his hips. Hyuck pointed at him with the remaining pepper and said, “You’re cute.”

“No more snacking until dinner,” scolded Taeyong.

“Anyway, when’s that delightful little brother of yours getting here?” Hyuck said, chewing loudly.

“I don’t know. He’s usually late to stuff when he brings his roommate. And can I ask,” said Taeyong, tossing chicken into a saucepan with a loud sizzle, “why you’re so interested in my brother when you’ve never met him?”

“Can’t a heart long for the unknown?” Hyuck said with a wistful look out the window.

Johnny laughed.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Taeyong.

Hyuck rolled his eyes. “I mean, I don’t know. You have good vibes, right? So it stands to reason that there’s a fair chance that someone who’s related to you _also_ has good vibes.” He shrugged. “Well, you know, not blood related, but related. Whatever.”

“You think I have good vibes?” Taeyong said.

“And also, well, I wasn’t going to say this, but since you asked…” Hyuck took a long sip of his beer to build up to his statement. “Everyone here is pretty antique, soooo...”

“ _Antique?_ ” said Johnny.

“I thought _you_ were eight thousand years old,” said Taeyong.

Hyuck rolled his eyes. “Demons and fairies don’t physically age. Duh. I’m excited for some folks in my, shall we say, _stage of life_ to come and freshen things up. Because right now I’m carrying the freshness level of the party on my back and it would be great if someone would share the burden.”

A voice bellowed “Yo everybody!” from down the hallway, so loud that everyone’s heads snapped towards the sound.

“Here come your fresh young people,” Johnny nodded to Hyuck as he dried his hands on a towel.

“Ooh! Not a second too soon!” said Hyuck.

A second later Lucas came careening down the hallway into the living room, dispersing more “yoo”s and “whassup”s, while Mark followed on his heels. Jaehyun got up from the floor and Johnny went to give hugs. A shower of “Happy birthday!”s circled the room. Yuta reached for Mark’s hand from the couch, and when Mark obliged, he yanked him down violently to plant a kiss on his cheek. Mark reeled away, laughing.

Taeyong turned to Hyuck and said, “Come here, we’ll introduce y—Hyuck?”

Donghyuck was frozen. His eyes darted to Taeyong. Silently, he shuffled into the narrow space between Taeyong and the fridge.

“What? What—Where are you going?” Taeyong said.

“Behind you,” Donghyuck whispered.

“What?”

“I am going into hiding. I am done showing my face for the day.”

“You what?”

“Why didn’t you tell me your brother was that good-looking?” Donghyuck squeaked into Taeyong’s shoulder.

“You’re hiding from _Mark?_ ” Taeyong wheezed, turning around. Hyuck grabbed his shoulders and spun him back into place.

“This is a betrayal. You and I, Taeyong, we were just embarking on the beginnings of what could have been a beautiful journey of friendship. And yet you didn’t even _warn me—”_

“Hyuck,” called Yuta as he crossed the room with an arm around Mark’s shoulders, “this is Mark! The guy you’ve been dying to meet for like, weeks…”

Yuta stopped talking when he saw Hyuck shrinking behind Taeyong. Hyuck ducked down further and buried his face between Taeyong’s shoulder blades. Taeyong bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing at the tickle.

“Hyuck?” Yuta peered over Taeyong’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

A second passed and then Hyuck laughed sheepishly, stepping halfway out from behind Taeyong. “Oh, me? Just…you know. Smelling Taeyong’s neck? Guy smells great…”

Yuta’s face brightened. “Oh yeah, that like, persimmon smell he has? I love that. I think it’s the laundry detergent he uses. Right, Taeyong?”

Taeyong cleared his throat. “Yeah, probably.”

“Anyway, Hyuck, this is Mark,” said Yuta. “You know. Taeyong’s kid brother we’ve been talking about.”

Hyuck bowed his head quickly. “Yes! Hello.”

Mark was looking at Hyuck with his mouth slightly open. He blinked and said, “I…Hi! It’s nice to meet you! Great to meet you.”

Silence. Taeyong knew he wouldn’t make it much longer without bursting into laughter so he said, “Ah! The chicken, it’s going to burn,” even though it wasn’t, and turned to the stove to let a smile break over his face. Behind him Yuta said, “Well anyway…you guys are closer in age than either of you are to me and Taeyong, so, yeah. Get along. Hey, Lucas!”

Taeyong finished cutting the onions and threw them into the saucepan with the chicken and peppers. Barely a minute later, Mark was standing at his back and saying, “Taeyong, oh my god.”

“Hm?”

“He’s so cute? Donghyuck? What do I do?”

Taeyong gave Mark a wide-eyed, no-teeth smile, and Mark jostled his arm. “Don’t look at me like that. Just tell me what to do. Taeyong! I’m not good at figuring out gay panic yet, can you just be a good gay older brother and tell me what to do!”

“It’s literally so simple, just be yourself,” Taeyong said.

“Myself? Myself isn’t good enough! _Look_ at him!”

“Fine, then, be better.”

“Wow. You’re terrible.”

Taeyong gestured with the knife. “Mark, your self is perfectly wonderful and perfect. It’s all you need. Come on now, you’re the full package.”

Mark grunted.

“You two have stuff in common,” said Taeyong. “Start there.”

“We have stuff in common?” Mark said.

“He loves music too. He sings. He’s really good, like _really_ good. And I think he plays a little bit of piano or something. I don’t know. Go talk to him about, like, whatever people who play instruments talk about. Music theory.”

“No one actually likes music theory, Taeyong.”

“I do! Taeil does.”

Mark shrugged, thumb tapping the counter. “Um. Need any help with the pad thai?”

“It’s almost done. Go flirt with Hyuck!”

“You go flirt with Yuta.”

“ _Mark!_ ” Taeyong rounded on him with the knife. Mark flailed his arms. “Sorry! Sorry!”

Taeyong gave him a warning look and returned to the pad thai.

“Seriously, though, how is that whole…thing going?” Mark said, leaning in.

Taeyong’s eyes found Yuta across the room. He was whispering in Ten’s ear. Ten’s eyes widened and he made a broad grin at Hyuck, who scowled and said, “Leave me alone! What are you, my embarrassing aunties?” Yuta puckered his lips and reached to give Hyuck’s head a deliberately annoying pat.

“Oof,” said Mark, eyes on Taeyong.

“I didn’t even say anything!” said Taeyong.

“The look on your face said it all,” said Mark in a teasingly woeful tone.

“Shut up.”

“ _Whipped_ ,” Mark mouthed and then went to consult Lucas, who was talking animatedly to Sicheng in Chinese while Taeil watched them with an absent smile on his face.

The noodles were almost perfectly browned when Taeyong felt a pair of arms wrap around his middle from behind. A kind of _zing_ went through his body.

“Boo,” said Yuta’s voice in his ear.

“Jesus.” Taeyong felt like a cartoon character who had just gotten struck by lightning, hair fried and sticking straight up. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Heh. That was the idea.” Yuta put his chin on Taeyong’s shoulder. “Is dinner almost ready?”

Taeyong inhaled, then exhaled. Yuta’s body was warm against his back. Maybe he’d just melt into it. That would be all right. “Yeah. Pretty much. Are people hungry?”

“I’ve never seen Hyuck go this long without eating something in my life. I’m afraid he might take a bite out of Mark.” Yuta let go of Taeyong and stood next to him, bracing his hands on the counter. “Oh my god, but Tae, the way Hyuck is _so_ deep in it with Mark right now, you would not believe—”

“Fuck, I know! Everyone else he meets, he makes some kind of dramatic introduction, but all he said to Mark was—”

“ _Yes, hello!_ ” they said together, and cracked up.

“First time he’s been that quiet his entire damn life,” Yuta said.

“Do you know what he said to me when Mark walked in?” Taeyong turned his face to Yuta’s in excitement and felt his heart almost stop. He was so close. Oh dear.

“What?” Yuta said.

“Uh…he was like…”

_I’m gonna kiss him, I’m gonna do it, I’m gonna fucking do it, oh fuck_ , Taeyong thought for the thirtieth time that week.

“Yeah?” Yuta was smiling. So close.

_KISS_ , demanded Taeyong’s brain.

“He called me a traitor for not warning him ahead of time how good-looking Mark is,” he said, looking back down at the saucepan.

Yuta hummed a laugh. “Damn. Harsh.”

“But then get this,” Taeyong said, focusing on stirring. “Mark comes up to me eight seconds later and is like, oh em gee, Donghyuck cute, what to do—”

“I THOUGHT HE MIGHT THINK…”

“Yuta, he said to me, ‘What do I do, I don’t know how to gay panic yet!’ It was so cute I almost burst into tears.”

“Ohh, baby baby gay,” said Yuta.

Taeyong turned off the heat on the stove and let the pad thai sizzle gently. “Yeah. Babies.”

“Do you think they’ll date?”

“Maybe. I hope so.”

“Mm.”

Taeyong stared at the pad thai. “Do I actually have a persimmon smell?”

Yuta lifted his weight off the counter in surprise. “I’ve never told you that before? I love that smell. It’s so Taeyong.”

Taeyong gave a weak laugh.

“Come on, let’s eat,” said Yuta.

“Oh. Yeah,” said Taeyong.

Yuta reached for the plates and Taeyong opened a drawer to pull out a handful of forks. “Dinner’s ready,” he called.

“Happy birthday to me!” sang Donghyuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why hello! it's the end of chapter 3 and you're still here! thank you, that means a lot! are you liking the fic so far? if so feel free to leave a comment! next chapter's pretty long.. you need anything? some popcorn? candy? water? don't forget to stay hydrated for maximum reading enjoyment!


	4. all i can think about is you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all i can think about is you / coldplay

“Everyone! Listen up!”

Yuta stood on the couch, clapping his hands. Everyone looked up. “Oh, here we go,” said Doyoung.

“Come here, you guys,” said Yuta to Sicheng and Mark, who were across the room washing dishes. Mark dropped a plate into the sink with a clatter and sprinted to join the circle of boys in the living room. Sicheng dried his hands on a dish towel and followed.

“Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for,” said Yuta. “It is time! For! The yearly!” He paused, looking around at the upturned faces below him. “Come on, assholes, drum roll. Hype me,” he said.

Jaehyun, Mark, and Taeyong obliged by slapping their hands rapidly on their knees.

“What’s going on?” said Ten.

“The yearly!” Yuta resumed, voice booming even louder than before. “Highly anticipated! Highly elite! One of a kind!”

“Mrroowww!” Max trumpeted.

“The eight annual TRUTH OR DARE TOURNAMENT,” Yuta bellowed.

A few people clapped. Johnny whistled.

“ _Truth or dare tournament?_ ” Hyuck repeated, not slightly doubtfully.

“2011. February. It was Johnny and Jaehyun’s birthday month,” said Yuta, waving his hands around in the air. “Our first year of high school. The four of us were bored in Johnny’s basement...”

“The four of who?” asked Ten.

“…but too scared,” said Yuta, “to steal his parents’ soju. Finally, Jaehyun suggested a game of truth or dare. _Taeyong_ ”—Yuta pinwheeled his arm to point a finger down at Taeyong, who sat next to him—“ _won_.”

“The beginnings of a legend,” Sicheng murmured. Taeil nodded solemnly. Ten and Donghyuck looked around in confusion.

“One year later. February, 2012. We challenge Taeyong to a rematch.” Yuta was almost whispering. “The tournament is harsh and lasts nearly till dawn. Taeyong…wins… _again_.”

Taeyong couldn’t keep himself from smiling. This speech got more ridiculous every year.

“2013. February. Mark attends the tournament. The roster now includes five players. Taeyong wins.”

“Okay, I’m starting to see a pattern here,” said Donghyuck.

“2014. Taeyong wins. 2015. Sicheng joins the tournament. Taeyong wins. 2016—Doyoung and Taeil join the tournament. Commentators spot a low-burning talent in rookie Doyoung and project an upset. For a moment, it looks as if the challenger will take the victory. _But_ —” Yuta winked. “Taeyong wins. 2017: Lucas enters the tournament...”

“Oh, 2017 was such a good year,” said Johnny and started to laugh.

“Yeah, wasn’t that the year Mark peed out the window?” said Doyoung. Both Mark and Hyuck looked at him in horror.

“Yeah, and Jaehyun ate triple spicy noodles and cried,” added Lucas.

“And Taeyong bought out the convenience store’s entire stock of extra-large condoms!” said Jaehyun.

“That was before the money rule was instated,” said Yuta. “We’ll get to all that in a second. Anyway, in 2017, despite each player’s bravest and most tenacious efforts, the win went to the longstanding champion: Lee Taeyong.”

“My god,” said Ten.

“2018…” Yuta pointed at Donghyuck. “I’ll give you one guess.”

“Lee Taeyong wins!” said Donghyuck.

“Precisely.” Yuta nodded. “Now, on this day the eighth of February, 2019, we gather here to unite in our efforts to take down a dictator of eight years. And this year, we welcome not one, but _two_ rookies to the tournament, and if you ask me, they bring a lot of potential to the table.”

“Oh, so we’re doing this,” said Hyuck and looked at Ten.

“Yes, it would appear so,” said Ten.

“For, comrades, every king falls,” said Yuta. He raised a fist in the air. “Every fat cat eventually gets caught by the dog. Such is the nature of history. And today, history is behind us! Well? Are you with me, men?”

Several people hooted.

“Jesus, you guys are going hard this year,” said Taeyong.

“If it’s too intense for you, feel free to drop out,” said Yuta, grinning down at Taeyong.

“No shame in bowing out gracefully,” said Taeil.

“No, no, no!” Hyuck exclaimed. Mark, who had been staring at Hyuck’s untied pink shoelaces, jumped. “You have to stay in,” Hyuck said, “so I can beat you fair! None of this quit-while-you’re-ahead stuff! I want to take you face to face!”

“Don’t worry, Hyuck,” said Taeyong, “these guys aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

Yuta picked up a stack of paper that was sitting next to him on the couch and brandished it in the air. “Here are the rules. I’ve printed them out this year for y’all’s convenience. Please take the next two minutes to read through them carefully. Failure to comply by the rules will result in immediate elimination.”

“Y’all take this seriously, I mean, fuck,” said Hyuck.

“Hyuck?” Mark said.

“Huh?” Hyuck yelped.

“Just…your shoelaces,” said Mark, and pointed.

“Oh. Oh! Thank you!” Hyuck quickly knotted his shoelaces into an unfortunate tangle.

Taeyong took the piece of paper Yuta handed to him and said, “When did you even do this?”

“I used the beauty school’s printer,” Yuta said. He balled up a sheet and threw it at Doyoung’s face to get his attention.

_EIGHTH ANNUAL TRUTH OR DARE TOURNAMENT: RULES_ , read the bold script at the top of the paper. Underneath it was a picture that Johnny had snapped of Taeyong licking whipped cream off Jaehyun’s belly button in 2014.

Taeyong groaned.

“It had to be this picture, huh,” said Jaehyun.

“Should I be scared?” said Hyuck.

“Just read the rules, dipsticks,” said Yuta.

_ONE,_ said the sheet. _IF YOU FAIL TO ANSWER A QUESTION TRUTHFULLY, YOU ARE ELIMINATED._

_TWO: IF YOU FAIL TO ACCEPT A DARE OR ARE UNSUCCESSFUL IN CARRYING IT OUT, YOU ARE ELIMINATED._

_THREE: EACH ROUND, TRUTHS AND DARES MUST INCREASE IN INTENSITY. IF YOU GO EASY ON SOMEBODY, MAJORITY CAN RULE TO ELIMINATE YOU._

_FOUR: NO DARES THAT INVOLVE ILLEGAL ACTIVITIES._

_FIVE: NO DARES RELATED TO ALCOHOL OR SUBSTANCES._

_SIX: NO DARES THAT MAY CAUSE PHYSICAL HARM TO ANY PERSON._

_SEVEN: IF THE DARE INVOLVES MONEY, AMOUNT MAY NOT EXCEED TEN THOUSAND WON._

_EIGHT: MAX IS OFF FUCKING LIMITS._

_NINE: LAST MAN STANDING MUST PASS BOTH A TRUTH AND A DARE TO WIN. IF HE FAILS EITHER OF THESE FINAL TRIALS, THE SECOND-TO-LAST MAN WINS AUTOMATICALLY._

“Any questions before we begin?” Yuta said.

Lucas stood up and said, “Uhh, I have to nervous pee,” before wobbling off down the hall.

“I’m getting my camera,” said Johnny.

“I’m getting another beer,” said Doyoung.

As the circle shuffled and reassembled, Yuta pulled a shoe box out from underneath the coffee table. “Here’s how it works,” he said to Hyuck and Ten. “We go clockwise around the circle. When it’s your turn to get a truth or dare, you pull a name from this box.” He shook the shoe box. “Everyone’s name is in here. We added yours today. And try not to rip or fuck up the old slips of paper from the early years, they’ve got, like, sentimental value.”

“Names. Box. Sentimental value. Got it,” said Hyuck.

“Whoever’s name you pick,” said Yuta, “that’s the person who gives you the truth or dare. Okay?”

Ten nodded and Hyuck said, “Right on, homie!”

“Sweet. Johnny! Ring the gong!”

Johnny picked up the gong hammer on the shelf behind him and smashed the mini toy gong that Taeyong’s parents had given him as a kid. In its wake, the room was silent.

“So it begins,” said Yuta in a low voice, and handed the shoebox to Hyuck.

“What? Me?” Hyuck said.

“Rookies or youngest go first,” said Yuta. “You’re both.”

Hyuck looked around and said, “Why am I literally terrified right now?”

“That’s why Yuta spends like ten minutes hyping the game before we start. Gets the tension up,” said Johnny.

“Don’t worry,” said Mark, “the first round is chill. You got this.”

Hyuck looked up with a nervous smile and Mark smiled back.

“Okay. Cool. Nothing an immortal like me can’t handle! Let’s get it.” Hyuck pulled open the lid of the shoebox, closed his eyes and picked out a slip of paper. He opened it up to read it.

“Whose name is it?” said Yuta.

“Whoops! It’s mine.” Hyuck gave a slightly manic laugh. “Looks like I’ll have to repick.”

“Nuh uh, it says Mark,” said Lucas, looking over Hyuck’s shoulder.

“It—uh…Oh! You’re right. My bad. I’m Haechan, I’m 19, and I never fucking learned how to read.”

“I thought you said you were 20!” said Taeyong.

Ten said softly, “It’s a meme, Taeyong.”

“Mark, ask Hyuck truth or dare,” said Yuta.

“Oh, yeah,” said Mark. “Uhh, Hyuck, truth or dare?”

Hyuck made a show of hemming and hawing, tapping his chin and looking everywhere in the room except for at Mark, who wasn’t looking away from him. Yuta elbowed Taeyong in the ribs. “I know, seriously,” Taeyong whispered back.

“I guess I’ll say dare, since mama didn’t raise no bitch,” said Hyuck finally, still staring at the wall.

“Hmm.” Mark thought for a second. “Okay, sing the chorus of a girl group song.”

Sicheng snorted. “Oh, please,” said Doyoung.

“Weak!” said Lucas.

“The first round is chill!” Mark protested, glaring around the room. 

“That doesn’t mean set the bar on the floor,” said Johnny.

Mark spluttered incoherently and then turned back to Hyuck. “A _cute_ girl group song! It has to be cute. And do the dance!”

“Okay, it’s okay. Everybody, I got this. I’ll make it worth your time,” said Hyuck, getting up and stretching his arms.

“This’ll be good,” said Ten as Lucas and Mark scooted out of his way. Johnny raised the camera.

“Five, six, seven, eight!” said Lucas.

“ _Trying to let you know!_ ” Hyuck chanted.

“TWICE!” screamed Lucas.

“ _SIGNEUL BONHAE! SIGNAL BONHAE!_ ” Taeil and Johnny roared.

“ _I must let you know! Signeul bonhae, signal bonhae!_ ” Hyuck popped his hip with the beat and shot finger hearts all over. Everyone hooted with laughter. Yuta hugged his sides and bent in half.

“Go to the jjirit jjirit part!” called Sicheng.

“ _Send you a signal, send you a signal, jjirit, jjirit, jjirit, jjirit_ ,” Hyuck sang, throwing himself wholeheartedly into the antennae dance, and the room descended further into chaos as Yuta slid off the couch to the floor and Mark, hands over his face, fell backwards into Johnny.

“ _I want you, I want you, why won’t you respond?_ ”

By the end everyone except Doyoung was singing along. Hyuck struck a heart pose, grinning and winking for several seconds while everyone else struggled to regain composure. Mark watched through his fingers, shaking his head. Taeyong hooked his arms under Yuta’s armpits and struggled to heave him back onto the couch.

“Yes, thank you for all your cheers and support. No, I don’t give autographs. Thank you. Thank you.” Hyuck bowed and sat down neatly, looking satisfied.

“You enjoyed that way too much,” said Yuta, leaning his elbow on Taeyong’s thigh.

Hyuck shrugged. “What can I say. I was born for the stage.”

“Hey, you can really sing, though,” said Doyoung.

“Yes, Doyoung. That is correct,” said Hyuck.

“No, he’s right, you’re great,” said Mark, sitting back up, and Donghyuck scratched his neck, looking up at the ceiling.

“Hah. Thanks. Well. Your turn, right? Clockwise…” Hyuck handed off the shoe box to Mark, who took it.

When Mark picked Jaehyun’s name and asked for a dare, Jaehyun told him to smell Lucas’s shoes, which he did reluctantly. Johnny put an ice cube down his pants and let it melt, then Jaehyun admitted to the room that he liked his mom better than his dad, then Doyoung denied ever dating a girl, then Ten brushed Yuta’s teeth and got toothpaste spit all over both of them. When Taeyong’s turn came, he drew Taeil’s name, and asked for a dare.

“Actually, I was hoping you’d pick my name at some point,” said Taeil, leaning his elbows on his knees so he could see Taeyong at the opposite end of the couch, “because I’ve been dying to hear some of the song you’ve been working on for the song contest.”

“Ooh!” said Sicheng, turning to Taeyong with a look of delight.

“Song contest?” said Ten. “What song contest?”

Taeyong looked at his hands. “Well uh…”

When Taeyong trailed off, Yuta said slowly, “Yeah, so, this radio station is holding a songwriting competition. It’s open to anyone. All you have to do is send them a demo, and if they pick you, they bring you into a recording studio, put your song together, and play it every day at noon on the radio for a week.”

“Mm,” Taeyong said in agreement.

“Oh, that’s awesome!” said Ten. “I didn’t know you wrote music, Taeyong.”

Taeyong looked around at the circle of his friends. Their faces were all upturned, eager. God, he hated letting them down. “Well, the thing is…I haven’t written anything much at all in a long time, actually…”

“What?” said Mark.

Taeyong looked to Yuta for support. “He’s got writer’s block,” Yuta said.

Johnny lowered his camera from his eye. “But you’re writing all the time.”

“All you do is work on your song!” said Jaehyun. “You don’t even sleep!”

Taeyong scoffed vaguely. “I sleep.”

“So the snapchat of Max from your phone at 4am last night that said _‘this spoiled brat won’t help me with my song’_ was sent by whom?” said Mark.

Taeyong let out a sigh and allowed his head to rest on Yuta’s shoulder.

“Max, obviously,” said Yuta.

“Wait,” said Doyoung, sitting forward, the look on his face concerned. “So you’ve seriously got nothing? Not even a couple shit lines?”

Taeyong felt Yuta’s fingers wrap around his waist. He wished he had something to show for the hours he’d spent hunched over his notebook, ignoring texts from his friends, scribbling down jumbled phrases only to scribble them out. He wished he could climb into Yuta’s lap and tell everyone, “Yeah, I’m writing a love song for Yuta, and it’s almost done, and it’s perfect.” He wished he could get the feelings inside him _out_.

Taeil was waving his hands over his head as if calling a truce. “Okay, forget the song. Forget the song. I don’t want anybody stressing over anything tonight unless it’s winning this game. Sicheng had a better idea anyway.”

“Mm?” Taeyong glanced at Sicheng. “What’s that?”

“I mean, it’s very first-round, but it’s cute. Go ahead, dare him,” Sicheng said to Taeil.

“Taeyong,” said Taeil, “I dare you to go around the circle and say the sexiest thing about each person in the room. Including yourself.”

The room rippled with sounds of approval and a few claps. Yuta giggled. Taeyong could already feel his face reddening.

“I accept,” he said, and without a pause he turned to Ten on his right. “Ten has an insanely sexy nose,” he said. “Doyoung, his singing voice. Oh my god. Sexy. And Jaehyun…Jaehyun, oh, should I just say dimples? No. Body. Jaehyun’s body. Johnny! His _ass!_ I’ve said that before but like, it could stand to be said again...”

“This is fun,” said Johnny. Jaehyun reached behind him and gave his butt a slap.

“Mark…Mark’s my brother, though, do I have to?” Taeyong said.

“Okay, go for the idea of sexiness, not really the feeling,” said Sicheng. “Like, me and Taeil are asexual but we can still tell you that Jaehyun has sexy arms. Think of it like that.”

“Yeah, it’s about the vibe,” said Taeil.

Taeyong tapped his chin. “Okay, well…when Mark raps, that’s hella sexy. Hyuck—I mean, he’s a baby, but—”

“I am of legal age!” Hyuck bristled.

“— _but_ his wittiness is definitely sexy. Lucas, ooh, so tall, love that. Taeil’s abs are super sexy,” Taeyong said, “and Sicheng, Sicheng has that cold stare he does when he’s annoyed that’s kind of intimidating but, like, mad sexy. And, mmm…”

Taeyong’s eyes settled on Yuta’s.

Yuta said, “My turn!”

Taeyong could still feel Yuta’s hand between his back and the couch, though it was no longer holding onto his waist. He broke eye contact and let his gaze roam over Yuta’s face.

“Your lips,” said Taeyong, “are so pretty, like…you just have the prettiest lips ever. And you have a really good jaw. You have such a good, just, facial structure. And hair, your hair always looks good, especially when you’re like sweaty or it’s rainy and your hair gets a little wavy and hangs in your eyes…The way your eyes get when you smile, oh! When you’re speaking Japanese, especially, and you smile, you look like what joy looks like.” The more Taeyong talked, the harder it seemed to stop. “And when you’re talking to somebody one on one, you have a specific smile too, like, letting them know that you hear them, and you want to hear them. Or when you’re doing my makeup and you finish and you know it looks good, you have that proud smile, kind of, and when you see someone really cute like Sicheng you have like a gooey smile, and when Hyuck is being weird you have a smile for that too, or when we’re drunk and I do something dumb and you’re laughing at me or when I make you something to eat as a surprise. The way you have so many different ways of, of, wearing happiness…”

Slowly, as he said the last sentence, he became aware of Mark coughing violently somewhere across the room. The sound seemed to reach him from far away, like distant thunder. Yuta was staring at him with what looked like the beginnings of a smile but which was in actuality the last breath of a grin that had unconsciously faded.

Mark stopped hacking once Taeyong went quiet. A beat of silence passed.

“Well that was fucking gay,” said Doyoung.

“Incandescently so,” said Johnny. Jaehyun laughed. Taeyong finally wrenched his eyes away from Yuta’s face and looked down.

“You only had to say one thing, you know,” Taeil said with amusement.

“Who cares! It was beautiful!” trilled Donghyuck. He was practically singing. “I felt like I was watching the part of a K-drama scene right before the confession!”

“Well,” said Yuta, seeming to shake himself, “that’s what happens when you ask a gay boy to compliment his lifelong soulmate, I don’t know what else you guys expected.”

Taeyong forced a laugh that rang a little too loud. His face was burning. He felt like slapping himself.

“Well you still have to say something sexy about yourself before your turn is over,” said Taeil.

Taeyong shook his head. “Um. I’m. My…I need some water.”

“While that may be true, it’s not very sexy,” said Jaehyun.

“Fine. My charm.” Taeyong began to stand.

“Not specific enough!” Sicheng said.

Yuta leaned close to Taeyong and murmured in his ear, “Say your gaze when you’re on stage.”

Taeyong blinked at him. Yuta nodded. “My gaze when I’m dancing,” Taeyong said, and Sicheng and Taeil appeared mollified. Taeyong rose and stepped between Ten and Doyoung to find a drink.

Yuta’s turn passed uneventfully, and Taeyong barely paid attention, standing at the counter and replaying Yuta’s words in his mind. There were a few dishes left in the sink. Taeyong began to scrub at them absentmindedly. Yuta was constantly reminding Taeyong how cute he was, but it was much rarer for Yuta to tell him he looked hot. And if he did, it was usually in regards to his makeup or his outfit. But his aura onstage, that was more…more _him_ than a curated look for a night out. And Yuta thought it was sexy. Taeyong reached for the glass of water he’d filled and drained it in one go.

“Taeyong!” someone called, and Taeyong whirled around, the last of the water sloshing over his chin. He wiped at it and said, “What?”

“It’s Mark’s turn again,” said Johnny, “and he picked your name.”

“Oh.” Taeyong left the glass in the sink and picked his way back to his place on the couch. Yuta reached for him without even looking at him, as if he were doing it semiconsciously. “Mark,” said Taeyong as he awkwardly grasped Yuta’s outstretched hands and then dropped them so that he could settle into the crook of Yuta’s elbow, “truth or…Hyuck, what the hell happened to you?”

Donghyuck was sitting cross-legged on a towel between Lucas and Mark, his hair and clothes so waterlogged he looked almost spooky, like a drowned ghost. “Were you not paying any attention at all? Your buddy Sicheng here made me go stand in the shower with my clothes on. I’m not even allowed to change after this round or anything.”

Taeyong put a hand over his mouth to cover his laughter.

“It isn’t my fault you didn’t pick truth,” said Sicheng.

“Okay. Moving on. Mark Lee, truth or dare?” asked Taeyong.

“Dare,” said Mark immediately.

“Switch an article of clothing with Hyuck,” said Taeyong.

Mark grimaced and Hyuck paled. “Oh, come on,” said Mark. “That’s like hitting me with a dare and a half in one turn—”

“That’s too bad. Your sweatshirt is dry and I don’t want him getting sick in my house.”

Mark looked at Hyuck somewhat apologetically, even though it was him that would have to put on wet clothes, and said, “Uh…your flannel, my hoodie?”

Hyuck, who looked like he was about to pass out, nodded and yanked the dripping flannel off.

“Hey, your T-shirt didn’t even get that wet,” said Sicheng.

“You never said I had to be soaked through!” Hyuck retorted and then turned shyly to Mark, who held out his orange sweatshirt. “Sorry,” said Hyuck as he handed over the flannel.

“Blame it on Taeyong,” said Mark, and began to pull the flannel on over his long-sleeved Vancouver T-shirt. He made a pained noise as the water started to soak through the fabric.

“Eugh,” said Ten sympathetically.

“Sorry,” said Hyuck again, hanging his head. He sounded almost mournful.

“No, no! It’s not your fault. It’s…it’s no problem,” said Mark quickly.

“Hyuck, put on the sweatshirt before you freeze, please,” said Taeyong.

Hyuck nodded and pulled it over his head, putting the hood up and tightening the strings until only a small portion of his face was visible. The smile this brought to Mark’s face was nothing short of adoring.

“How’s it smell?” called Yuta.

“Amazing,” answered Hyuck very softly, and when shrieks of laughter went up around the circle, his eyes widened. “I mean—I didn’t mean that! I mean, I did mean—I mean—I didn’t mean to _say_ —Yuta, what kind of question is that? Weirdo!”

“You look cute in it,” said Mark, and Hyuck almost jumped three feet in the air.

“ _Cute?_ He looks like a garden gnome,” said Yuta.

Taeyong elbowed Yuta in the ribs and whispered, “Stop torturing them, for fuck’s sake.”

“No, no. He looks like a Teletubby,” said Johnny.

Max, who had at some point ended up in Lucas’s lap, let out a warbling meow that sounded for all the world like laughter. Hyuck rounded on him and said, “Who asked you, creep?”

“Relax, Hyuck, he’s just mad at Lucas for not petting him,” said Taeyong, who recognized the dissatisfied mewl. Lucas looked up and gave Max’s ears a scratch. Max screeched approvingly.

Hyuck watched Max’s yellow eyes. “You think you’re so cute,” he whispered. “I see right through you. Evil fiend.”

“Donghyuck, leave the cat ALONE,” said Yuta.

Max rested his head on Lucas’s knee smugly.

Hyuck barely lasted another two rounds before breaking. In the middle of a passionate rendition of the gwiyomi song by Lucas, he leapt up and screamed, “I CAN’T SIT HERE AND ROT IN WET JEANS ANYMORE OR I’LL TURN INTO A SWAMP MONSTER!” and ran to Yuta’s room, happily reappearing several minutes later in Yuta’s sweatpants, which were huge on him, and a Brown Eyed Girls T-shirt of Taeyong’s that Yuta had borrowed months ago and never given back. Hyuck offered to return Mark’s orange sweatshirt, but after Mark assured him that he couldn’t take it back without facing elimination, Hyuck promptly pulled it back on, despite the fact that it still looked a bit damp.

As soon as Hyuck dropped out of the game, a wave of eliminations ravaged the playing field. Taeil bowed out after refusing to let Johnny give him a haircut. Ten, when asked which two members of the group he’d have a threesome with, said, “Oh, god, no, I’ll hang onto my pride, thanks.” A single Pocky game took out three players in one blow—Johnny and Doyoung, tasked with finishing the Pocky stick between them without flinching, both balked and dissolved into laughter when their lips brushed, and Lucas, joining in the chants of “KISS, KISS, KISS,” forgot that he had been dared to end every sentence he spoke with the phrase “and that’s the tea” until his next turn, and was out.

Three hours and several beers later, only five players remained: Taeyong with his mouth and one arm smeared in glittery lipgloss, Yuta with the remains of a raw egg still dripping out of his hair, Jaehyun shirtless and covered in flour, Mark with his feet tied together by Jaehyun’s shirt, and Sicheng, still miraculously but characteristically immaculate. The real trouble, as far as Taeyong was concerned, started when he pulled Hyuck’s name out of the box.

Taeyong always refused to give away his secret to winning, but the strategy he used was actually pretty simple. Throughout the game he asked almost exclusively for dares. Within the bounds of the rules and the few blocks around the apartment, there was little he was unwilling to do. It wasn’t that he didn’t get embarrassed easily, but more that he didn’t mind the embarrassment so much, especially when it made his friends laugh. Truths, on the other hand—yikes. He hated people picking his brain, particularly in this game, where everyone was out to get him and would be sure to ask the most sensitive questions. He avoided truths as much as he could without anyone noticing, especially as the game drew to its peak.

His first mistake was getting too confident too soon and asking Hyuck for a truth with five people left. He figured that since Hyuck didn’t know him as well the rest of the group, he’d give Taeyong a question that was a little less dangerous. He figured wrong.

“Okay, Nation’s Visual, I’m curious. Do you like anybody? Like, _like_ like, like, you got a crush?” Hyuck asked.

His second mistake was hesitating. If Taeyong had immediately answered “no,” the way Yuta did—“No, no, we’d know if he did, ask something else”—then he might have passed with ease. Of course, it was always possible that Mark could rat him out, but Taeyong was pretty sure Mark would rather hang onto the secret for leverage. Yes, if Taeyong had just denied having a crush right away, everything would have moved along smoothly.

But instead of denying, Taeyong just looked around with a half-open mouth and made a “ehh” noise.

While Yuta and Johnny were telling Hyuck to take back his question and ask something juicier, Hyuck pointed at Taeyong and said, “OH, SO YOU DO, HUH? YOU DO, DON’T YOU?”

Taeyong panicked. “No, I—I mean, I—”

“He totally does,” said Taeil.

“No way! You have a crush?” said Jaehyun.

“Is it someone we know?” said Doyoung.

“It—” Taeyong stammered. “It’s not a _crush_ —”

“You mean you’re in _love?_ ” gasped Hyuck, slapping a hand over his heart. Ten put his hand over his brow.

Taeyong could feel Yuta’s eyes on him, but didn’t turn to look at him. Instead he looked at Mark, who shrugged and made a face that said, “ _Listen, it was going to happen sooner or later._ ” Lucas was giggling somewhere to the side. Johnny’s camera shuttered loudly.

“I do like someone, yes,” Taeyong said with as much dignity as he could muster, before handing the box of off to Yuta.

A parrotlike chorus of “ _Who?_ ”s erupted around the circle, joined by Max squawking for food somewhere off down the hallway. Aside from Mark, Ten, Lucas, and Taeyong himself, the only quiet person in the room was Yuta. Taeyong finally turned to him, trying to figure out how to apologize for not telling him without actually apologizing, but Yuta didn’t look wounded or affronted. In fact he didn’t have much of an expression at all, aside from his raised eyebrows and slightly puckered mouth.

“The name, Yong, tell us his _name_ ,” Sicheng was demanding from Yuta’s other side. Seeing Taeyong was unmoved, Sicheng pouted cutely. Yuta glanced at him and smiled.

“My turn is over. I answered the question,” said Taeyong.

“Can’t we just make him tell us during his next turn?” asked Hyuck.

“Only if he picks truth,” said Ten.

Lucas said, a little too gleefully, “We’ll just dare him to tell us who his crush is,” and was shushed by three people at once.

“You can’t do that,” Johnny told him, “it’s against the Honor Code.”

“Honor Code.” Hyuck snorted. “You people are insane.”

“Mark, do you know?” said Jaehyun.

Mark pressed his lips between his teeth and let his eyes wander up to the ceiling. Lucas was still giggling.

“Yo, has anyone seen my phone?” Johnny said, patting the ground around him.

“Okay, guys, I’m picking,” said Yuta, and shook the box to get everyone’s attention. The circle quieted.

Yuta pointed at Taeyong and said with half a grin, “Don’t get too comfy though,” and Taeyong did not. In fact, he began sweating bullets. Luckily, no one seemed to notice, because most of the group was significantly filthier than he was, or perhaps more due to the sudden second wave of eliminations that came on minutes later. After Johnny asked Yuta if he’d ever dreamed about him and Yuta proceeded to describe in great detail a dream he’d once had about Johnny marrying a duck, everyone except Yuta and Taeyong was wiped out in rapid succession. Sicheng drew the line at eating a whole unpeeled lemon. Mark, when asked by Ten who in the circle he’d like to kiss, clammed up immediately, and Jaehyun refused to choose between Johnny, Taeyong and Yuta for “fuck-kill-marry.” Before he knew it, Taeyong was poised on the brink of an eighth victory, with only one person left in his way. The same person who always seemed to be in his way.

“How are you holding up there, sunbaenim?” asked Yuta, eyes bright, as he and Taeyong shifted to face each other on the couch. “Losing steam? Need a rest?

“ _Rest?_ ” Taeyong barked a laugh. “You’re forgetting who you’re up against, Nakamoto. Champions don’t rest.”

Their knees rested against each other’s, and Max sleepily resettled from Yuta’s lap into the space between them. “Maybe so,” shrugged Yuta, “but veterans do, and you’ve been in the game for a long time...”

“Okay, enough banter. Taeyong, it’s your turn,” said Jaehyun, tapping Taeyong’s arm with the box.

Taeyong’s heart was pounding. He always got a little caught up in the game, and tournaments over the years had ended between him and Yuta more often than not. But this time he had to take a deep breath to steady himself as he reached into the box and prayed for a merciful truth-or-darer.

He plucked a slip from the box and noticed almost immediately that it was worn thin. He opened it and groaned.

“Who is it?”

“ _Johnny_.”

Amid the hoots and cackles, Johnny said, “Taeyong, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” said Taeyong.

“Call the person you have a crush on and tell them using aegyo.”

Taeyong cocked his head as if to hear better. “Tell them what?”

“That you have a crush on them!”

Taeyong blinked once and then again. The room was in chaos. Jaehyun was crowing in approval. Yuta laughed gleefully. “You’ve finally ousted the king!” Jaehyun said.

“It’s a coup!” Hyuck sang.

“This is too mean,” said Ten.

“He’ll never do it,” said Johnny.

“He _will_ , and you’ll be complicit in getting him rejected,” Taeil said without looking up from his phone.

“ _Rejected?_ Who would reject Lee Taeyong?” Yuta said, and Sicheng answered, “Anyone would if he does it over the phone with _aegyo_ …”

Taeyong stared at the floor in front of him. He could see it all playing out there in that blank space. He would take out his phone. Pull up his recent calls. Perhaps Yuta, looking over his shoulder, would blink when Taeyong selected the contact that read “NAKAMOTO LIGHTOFMYLIFE YUTA” and hit “call.” Yuta would stare at him, maybe shake his head, _No, wait, not in front of everybody_ , and Yuta’s phone would ring with Taeyong’s ringtone—“Marshmallow” by IU—and Yuta would glance at it, slowly reach for it, pick up the call and say, “Hello…?” and Taeyong’s throat would close up, unable to say a single word.

“No,” he said, and looked up. The room fell silent.

Doyoung said, “No?”

“No.”

Lucas looked at Mark and said, “Is he refusing the dare?”

“Yeah, I am. I’m out,” said Taeyong, and pulled his knees up to his chest, sitting back against the couch cushions.

Yuta, Sicheng, and Taeil stared at him with dumbfounded expressions on their faces.

“You _can’t_ ,” said Hyuck. Taeyong looked at him.

“Yeah, you can’t, it’s weird if you drop out,” Johnny said.

“Yeah!” said Lucas, and Mark laughed, “Wasn’t that the point? To get him to drop out?”

As the others went back and forth, Yuta turned to Taeyong and raised his eyebrows at him. Taeyong shrugged. Yuta leaned back into Taeyong’s shoulder. “I’ve waited for this day for eight years,” he muttered, “and now that it’s here, I feel nothing but emptiness.”

Taeyong smiled. Stupid as it was, he felt as if a phantom weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He wanted to take Yuta’s hand and hold it or play with his rings or something. Max made a noise and stretched, nestling between them.

“You’re seriously going to drop out?” said Yuta.

Taeyong shrugged again, unintentionally jostling Yuta’s head that was resting on his shoulder. “Agh,” said Yuta, and Taeyong reached to pat the crown of his head in apology. His hair was sticky from the raw egg.

“Ew, your head is gross,” said Taeyong.

“Sorry,” said Yuta indifferently, making no move to lift his head from Taeyong’s shoulder. “For real though, I think I thought you’d never actually lose. Damn. What’s even the point of playing next year if we don’t have to take you down?”

“Shut up. We’ll still be playing this stupid game when we’re fifty.”

“Yeah.” Yuta chuckled. “This guy must be a big deal to make you drop out.”

_You have no idea_ , Taeyong wanted to say. “Mm.”

Yuta raised his head momentarily to look up at Taeyong. “So…is he part of why you’ve been acting weird?”

“Uhhmm.”

Yuta scrunched his nose a little and said, “You’re all lovesick.”

“ _Lovesick_ …” Taeyong said in weak protest.

“I feel like I should have known. But I’ve never seen you like this. You weren’t this way with your exes. You didn’t like them that much anyway, though,” Yuta said, softly, almost as if he were talking to himself instead of Taeyong. He looked up at Taeyong again and said, “Mystery Man must be the real deal.”

Taeyong thought his head must look like a steamed tomato about to explode. It certainly felt that way. Sure enough, Yuta grinned and added, “You’re blushing like hell, holy shit.”

Taeyong rolled his eyes. “So like…you’re not, like…”

Yuta shook his head. “No, I mean, I get it. But Tae, you can tell me, really, it’s okay. Like, it’s cool. I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”

“What? No, it’ s not that I thought you would tell someone, I trust you—”

“Well, yeah…”

“I just felt like telling you would make it too real,” Taeyong said, and was surprised by how true it was.

“Ah,” Yuta nodded. Then a mischievous smile crept over his face and he said, “Okay, but give me a hint, what are his initials?”

“Shut up…”

“Is he in this room?” When Taeyong didn’t answer, Yuta whispered, “Oh my god, it’s Jaehyun.”

“Shut _up!_ ”

“IT IS HIM?”

“It’s not him,” Taeyong hissed a little too loudly.

“It’s not who?” asked Sicheng, leaning around Yuta.

“Jaehyun,” Yuta told Sicheng.

“ _Jaehyun?_ ” shouted Lucas.

“Christ, you like Jaehyun?” said Johnny with a look of alarm.

Ten said, “Does anyone want a drink?” and got up.

“IT’S NOT JAEHYUN,” Taeyong said. He stood up to do damage control as everyone screamed and Jaehyun, still white as a ghost with flour, grinned up at him. “Jaehyun, baby boy, I love you, and you’re very… _very_ hot, but I do not have a thing for you.”

“Sorry for your loss,” Jaehyun said, and belly laughed at the look on Taeyong’s face.

“Doyoung, hit him for me,” said Taeyong. Doyoung obliged a little too happily and a puff of flour rose off of Jaehyun, who pouted.

“Okay, guys, guys,” said Mark, spreading his hands out like a security guard trying to calm down a crowd. “Did you all forget that the Last Man Standing still has to go?”

“Oh, god,” said Ten, who was pouring straight soju into a glass in the kitchen, “it’s not over yet?”

“Rule Nine. The Last Man Standing clause,” Johnny intoned.

“‘ _THE LAST MAN STANDING MUST PASS BOTH A TRUTH AND A DARE TO WIN,’”_ Hyuck read from a rule sheet. “‘ _IF HE FAILS EITHER OF THESE FINAL TRIALS, THE SECOND-TO-LAST MAN WINS AUTOMATICALLY.’_ Wait, so Taeyong can still win?”

“Ironically, the rule was made to try to take Taeyong out,” said Yuta. “But yeah. To win the Truth or Dare tournament, you have to prove that you’re the master of both truths and dares, so…”

“Like that makes any sense,” said Hyuck.

“Just pick a name, Yuta,” Mark said, nudging the box closer to him with his toe.

Hyuck looked at Mark and suddenly an expression of panic came over his face. “Oh my god, I—do you want your sweatshirt back? I’m so sorry, you’ve been out of the game for like twenty minutes and I still—”

“No, no, no, it’s okay. It’s okay! Really.” Mark laughed. “You can hang onto it, I don’t need it.”

“Ah. Okay,” said Hyuck, smiling contentedly. When he looked up and saw Taeyong and Yuta giggling at him, he pointed and said, “Hey! Aren’t you drawing names to get dares and stuff right now, Mr. Last Man Standing?”

“Fuck, I barely even want to anymore.” Yuta shook himself and said, “Gotta take down the king, though,” pinching Taeyong’s knee. Taeyong kicked him.

Yuta pulled a slip out of the box and read, “Sicheng.” He turned to Sicheng, who was at this point sprawled across Taeil’s lap, and said, “Please. Please go easy. This needs to end.”

Sicheng smirked and whispered something in Taeil’s ear. Taeil shook his head. They both laughed. “I believe you have failed to recognize,” said Sicheng, in a low, dramatic voice mimicking Yuta’s narrator tone of earlier, “that to ‘go easy’ on the last turn of the game would be to corrupt the integrity of the entire tournament.”

“What he’s trying to say is that you don’t get out of a super entertaining last round just because you’re not Taeyong,” said Taeil.

“Ha!” said Taeyong.

Yuta kicked up his feet onto the coffee table and said, “Fine, let’s just get it over with. Truth first.”

Sicheng conferred briefly with Taeil and then asked, “Have you ever had feelings for a friend and never told them? No lies or you’ll be banned from next year’s tournament.”

Yuta shook his head. “No. Dare please.”

Taeyong’s stomach felt like a rock. _No_. That was it. That was all there was to it. No.

Sicheng said, “Okay, here. You’ll be blindfolded and have to guess the person I put in front of you using only touch. Every time you guess wrong, you have to kiss them. You only pass once you guess right.”

Doyoung made a sound that was somewhere between “ooh” and “eww.”

“That’s, like, four dares in one,” said Yuta.

“That’s the point, the last dare has to be elaborate,” said Mark.

Taeyong figured that at this point he was screwed either way. Yuta wasn’t into him, wasn’t into any of his friends, and if they made him kiss Yuta he’d wish they hadn’t, and if they picked someone else to kiss Yuta, he would wish it had been him. There was no way this could come off well. So he just said, “Yeah, you’re getting off pretty easy with this one,” which made Yuta gasp at him with a look of mock betrayal.

“Well? Do you accept or forfeit?” asked Johnny.

Yuta looked around. Suddenly Taeyong thought he looked very tired.

“Whatever. Accept. Blindfold me, fellas,” said Yuta. Doyoung grabbed a black scarf that someone had thrown over the back of a kitchen chair and got up to tie it over Yuta’s eyes. “Just don’t make me kiss Hyuck, because that would be like, illegal,” Yuta said.

“I’M OF LEGAL AGE!” Hyuck shouted just as Mark said, “Oh, don’t worry, we won’t.”

Taeyong helped Doyoung pull the scarf tight and waved a hand in front of Yuta’s eyes. “How are we doing there, sweetie? See anything?”

“Only an inevitable future where the entire Earth is fucked up and the animals are all dying because we couldn’t be bothered not to indirectly kill them,” Yuta said, turning his head this way and that.

“Wow, tonight’s birthday party really has a theme, huh?” said Johnny.

“Shush, Yuta. Get up,” said Sicheng, helping Yuta around the coffee table to stand in the middle of the circle. Yuta folded his arms and stood still, his back to Taeyong. Taeyong was so concerned for a moment about Yuta’s leg standing perilously close to a candle flame on the coffee table that at first he failed to notice Sicheng pointing at him and gesturing.

Ten touched his elbow gently, and he looked up. Sicheng was waving. Taeyong shook his head quickly. Sicheng put his hands on his hips and mouthed silently, “ _Come on_.” Lucas and Jaehyun nodded. Johnny threw back his head in silent laughter.

“ _Me?_ ” Taeyong mouthed, pointing at his chest, and then made an X with his arms.

Yuta said, “I’ll assume the silence means that everyone’s jumping at the chance to get a kiss from Nakamoto Yuta, and Sicheng’s having a hard time choosing between so many eager candidates.”

Sicheng beckoned at Taeyong furiously, and Doyoung gave him a small shove. Taeyong rolled his eyes but Sicheng already had him by the hand, dragging him to the sink on the other side of the room. “Uhh, to make it fair,” Sicheng said loudly before turning on the water, “I’m going to run the water for a second, just, like, in case the person has to wash anything off them that might give away who they are.”

“Sure, like some raw egg or whatever,” said Yuta, picking at the dried crust of egg yolk in his hair and grimacing.

“Sure,” said Sicheng, and turned on the water. He gave Taeyong a paper towel and motioned for him to clean the lip gloss off his face. Taeyong scowled at him for a moment and then snatched the paper towel out of his hand, dipping it under the faucet and wiping his face down with it. Sicheng gave him a thumbs-up, turned off the water, and steered him back to the circle, which broke to let Taeyong step into it.

“Okay, no one say anything, or it’ll give away that you’re not the person Yuta’s trying to guess,” Sicheng said, laying his head on Taeil’s leg and stretching out down the length of the couch where Yuta and Taeyong had been sitting.

“Can I…?” Yuta raised his hands, grasping tentatively at air. Hyuck kicked Taeyong’s ankle.

“Yeah, he’s there,” said Sicheng. Taeyong stepped forward as Yuta moved closer to him.

“Oh,” said Yuta when the side of his hand brushed Taeyong’s hair. He stopped, patted the top of Taeyong’s head, and then put his hands on either side of Taeyong’s face.

“Hmmm…”

Taeyong realized he wasn’t breathing. He let out a lungful of air through his nose. Yuta’s lips parted as his hands patted at Taeyong’s forehead, cheeks and nose. “Hmm,” he said again, and dropped a hand, leaving only two fingers to trace their way over Taeyong’s temple and down along the line of his jaw. Taeyong had to focus on staying silent as Yuta raised the other hand again and drew his thumb along the curve of Taeyong’s bottom lip, and then repeated the action more slowly across both lips, light, featherlike, only stopping at the corner of his mouth.

“I know who it is,” Yuta said, and his hands fell away.

_No, no,_ Taeyong thought. _No you don’t. Say Doyoung. Say Johnny._

“Who?” asked Sicheng.

“Taeyong,” Yuta answered without a second’s hesitation. Shouts and cheers went up around the room. “YOOOOOO!” hooted Lucas.

Yuta’s head turned back and forth and he said, “Are you guys cheering because I’m right or cheering because I’m wrong?”

“You’re right,” said Taeyong, reaching to roll up the blindfold, and Yuta grinned up at him as he pulled it off.

Moments later the boys swarmed Yuta and heaved him into the air, bearing him into the kitchen where they dumped him haphazardly onto the floor and scrambled to pour him a glass of soju. Yuta looked up from the floor at each of their faces, smile flickering, and then saw Taeyong still standing in the living room. He beckoned.

Taeyong nodded and let his feet move him to Yuta, thinking, _Guess I could use a drink._

The rest of the night would have passed in relative peace, had Taeyong been able to stop thinking about the feeling of Yuta’s fingers on his lips, which he could not. He seemed to have found himself in an alternate reality where Yuta had guessed wrong, and they had kissed, and maybe he guessed wrong again and they kissed again, and Taeyong couldn’t manage to stop reliving the scene over and over, except it hadn’t actually happened. His brain didn’t seem to mind that it hadn’t happened, replaying in excruciating detail the image of Yuta leaning in like a low-framerate GIF. By the time Johnny sent a meme to the group chat that said “What if we kissed” (blushing emoji) “in front of all our friends” (shy monkey emoji) “while the ozone layer burns” (shocked emoji) with the caption “ _yuta and yong lol_ ,” Taeyong couldn’t bear it any longer. He leapt off the couch where Sicheng had been telling a story, barely missed stepping on Max, and barreled into the bathroom where he could hear Mark laughing.

“Mark, I’m gonna tell him!” he said, bursting through the door to find Mark cross-legged on the floor and Hyuck sitting on the toilet seat while Jaehyun knelt in front of the bathtub with the shower head in his hand. They looked up at him, openmouthed. Jaehyun stopped scrubbing the flour out of his hair.

_Well, I certainly didn’t think this through_ , thought Taeyong.

“You’re going to tell who what?” asked Jaehyun, his hair dripping.

“Your crush that you like him?” exclaimed Hyuck.

“Uhhh,” Taeyong pointed at Hyuck and said, “no. I meant—I’m going to tell…my dad. That I…”

Mark looked at him like he was an idiot.

“…am getting a tattoo?” Taeyong said.

Hyuck looked disappointed and Jaehyun returned to washing his hair. “Yeah?” said Jaehyun. “What tattoo?”

Taeyong shut the door and sat down against it. “Uh…I don’t know yet. Maybe a bird?”

“Oh that’s cute,” said Jaehyun, and Mark cut across him. “When are you telling him?” he said. He was staring at Taeyong meaningfully, his head tilted forward.

Taeyong tapped his foot on the blue tile floor. “When? You know. Sometime. When the time is right.”

“You should tell him now,” said Mark pointedly.

Taeyong coughed. “Right now?”

“Yeah, while you’re feeling brave and everything,” said Jaehyun.

“Oh, uh. I’m not quite ready.”

“Maybe you’ll never be totally ready, but he loves you, he’ll understand,” Mark said, and Taeyong glared at him.

Hyuck, who was examining his nails, said, “What’s the big deal about a tattoo? Your hair is _pink_.”

Taeyong laughed shrilly. Jaehyun glanced at him, frowning.

“Okay, well, you guys are right, can’t wait to…see what he says,” said Taeyong, and clapped, getting up to leave before Jaehyun too could figure out something was up. As he walked out of the bathroom, he received a text from Mark: _you better fucking know i’m holding you to that_.

Taeyong put his phone in his pocket. He could hear Yuta in the living room, yelling at someone to take their beer can out of the trash and put it in the recycling bin. He felt like snuggling in close to Yuta and taking a nap. Maybe he’d do exactly that.


	5. bad liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bad liar / selena gomez

Mark had been more serious than Taeyong knew in his text that night. In fact, he was relentless.

Every morning, minus the occasional Saturday where Mark slept late, Taeyong woke up to a text that said, “ _have you told him yet?_ ” After answering “ _no_ ” several days in a row, he began to ignore the messages, then went back to replying “ _no_ ” after learning that ignoring Mark would inevitably prompt a string of spam later in the day. In response to the “ _no_ ” texts, Mark alternated between encouraging him, berating him, and sending him clown memes. Twice, Taeyong received similar memes from Lucas too, which were followed by texts of “ _no offense bro_ ” with a string of crying-laughing emojis.

Taeyong knew that he had to tell Yuta. He’d realized, sitting there on the couch after the truth or dare game while Sicheng and Taeil chattered and his lips tingled, that the only way to banish this turning, breathless, unrelenting _want_ was to hear Yuta himself say it wasn’t going anywhere. Because in spite of everything he told Mark and himself, in spite of what Yuta had said at the birthday party about never being into any of his friends, Taeyong couldn’t let that little ember of hope go. He still clung to the idea of a maybe, a someday, a distant future wherein he looked into Yuta’s eyes and saw the same feelings that he himself felt. And he knew that the only way to put this to rest—the only way to move on—was to tell Yuta. To get it out, get it over with, and get over it.

Of course, the knowledge that it had to happen eventually didn’t make it any less terrifying, especially with Yuta always being right there and always, always being so…so Yuta. _Maybe I’ll do it today_ , Taeyong would be thinking as he got home from work, and he’d kick off his shoes and walk into the kitchen and there Yuta would be at the table, studying with his hair in his eyes, pretty as your favorite song, and Taeyong would think, _Okay, so not today_. Or he’d be sitting next to Yuta in a booth at the American-style diner around the corner and Doyoung would get up to go to the bathroom and Taeyong would think, _Now, now’s your moment, Taeyong, just grit your teeth and do it_ , and Yuta would drain his strawberry milkshake and then grin at Taeyong with a dab of whipped cream on his lip and all of Taeyong’s courage would just fade right away. Like a snowflake melting on a glove. One second it was there and the next second, it was like it had never existed.

Valentine’s Day started the same as every other day did. Taeyong’s alarm—a clip of Jaehyun singing “A Whole New World” from a video taken in high school—went off at 7:45. He grasped for his phone and turned off the alarm, cutting Jaehyun’s voice off in the middle of the word “splendid,” then heaved himself into a sitting position. For a few moments he just sat with his eyes closed. Then he rubbed his eyes and picked up his phone.

A text alert declared in bold letters that he had a message from “Mark Lee!!!<3” over the background of Johnny, Doyoung and Yuta with their arms around each other. Underneath, “ _have you told him yet?_ ”

Taeyong shook his head and threw his phone to the end of the bed. “UGGGHHHHH,” he moaned and rubbed his eyes some more. Then he stumbled down the ladder from his bed and into the shower.

“When did you go to bed last night?” asked Yuta through a mouthful of rice as Taeyong filled his water bottle at the sink before leaving for dance class.

“I don’t know,” said Taeyong.

Yuta gave him a look.

“3?” Taeyong said. It was a generous estimate and they both knew it.

“Because your eye bags are getting darker,” said Yuta.

“Oh, thanks a lot.”

“You’re lucky you still look cute with them. Most people just look deceased. You should tell Johnny to postpone the photoshoot and take a nap this afternoon instead.” Yuta scooped some leftover kimchi onto his rice.

“I’m not doing that to Johnny.”

“He’d get over it for the sake of your _health_.”

“Also, how’s your sister doing after last week?” asked Taeyong, reaching around Yuta to take a swig of his coffee.

Yuta shrugged. “Better. She said the admissions guys don’t know what they’re doing and that she’s going to retake the exam and apply for the program again next year.”

“She’s a badass,” said Taeyong.

“Nakamoto blood.”

“I’m going. Bye. I’ll come get you at 4,” Taeyong said and grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl.

“Mmm,” said Yuta, chewing.

Taeyong didn’t remember that it was Valentine’s Day until he was off the train and walking into the dance academy, at which point he received a barrage of messages from Mark, all of which were variations on the same text—“ _today’s valentine’s day it’s the perfect day to tell the love of your life how you feel!!!_ ”—with the only changes from message to message being the emojis. Taeyong replied “ _i will think about it omg_ ” in an attempt to staunch the onslaught of spam, but it didn’t help. His phone continued to go off while he greeted his students in his 9am contemporary dance class, so ceaselessly that he had to put it on silent so they could hear him. While the kids reviewed the steps they’d learned last week, he told Mark, “ _I’LL BLOCK YOU_ ,” and then did block him fifteen minutes later, only to start receiving messages from Lucas. He turned off his phone.

There were a lot of things Taeyong loved about his job at the dance academy. The first was, of course, that he got to _dance_. Every day. Not only that, but he got to choreograph the dances he taught however he wanted. He’d been given free reign by the school’s directors, who’d only told him, “No moves that the parents coming to the midyear show won’t want to see.” They trusted him because they knew him well at this point—he’d been dancing with the school for almost seven years. He’d started at the academy with Mark, back when Mark moved to Seoul after his dad married Taeyong’s mom. Their parents had insisted that doing some sort of activity together would help Taeyong and Mark get to know each other. While Mark had always been a good dancer, Taeyong dazzled their teacher by transforming from the class’s absolute worst student to its most advanced student in the span of five months, purely by virtue of hard work. “You never do half-ass anything,” Yuta said after the first show. Taeyong himself was surprised to find that he loved it—not just making music, as he’d been doing for years, but turning music into something new. Mark stopped taking classes after a couple years, but Taeyong had continued at the academy through college until they’d given him a part-time job teaching two classes, which had turned into a full-time job once he graduated. Taeyong found himself giving classes he’d been in the back of just four or five years ago.

The other reason he loved teaching dance was that it demanded all of his attention, undivided, and allowed no space for distractions. Unlike when he used to sit in class at college and worry that he’d forgotten something on his to-do list, compulsively check his phone, make grocery lists, or scribble down edits to make to his songs, teaching dance only involved three things: talking, watching, and dancing. For an hour at a time, five to eight times a day, Taeyong wouldn’t be able to worry about anything. This came in especially handy when he couldn’t stop thinking about Yuta, or his song, or both, and needed to take a break from his head. By the time Hip-Hop 3 was over at 2:45 that afternoon, Taeyong felt like he’d danced himself clean.

“All right! Okay. That’s it for today,” he told the class as he stopped the music. The students dropped their ending pose, panting. Taeyong clapped his hands and said in his perky instructor voice, “Great work, everyone. You guys really cleaned up the double glide-and-pop sequence in a short time. I’m proud of you. Olivia, Lip, I’m going to need you to bring that same energy every week, okay? Really nice, ladies.”

“Thanks, Godyong,” Olivia chirped from the back.

“I told you not to call me that. Hang on, guys, don’t head out yet! I need to see few people for a minute—”

“You can see me anytime!” someone shouted.

Taeyong popped a hip and put a hand on it. “Okay, let’s…let’s relax, everybody. Jisung, Jaemin, and uhh, Jeno, can you come speak with me for a second? It’ll only take a minute.”

The three boys jogged to the front of the room as Taeyong shut down the studio’s music system and the rest of the class began to funnel out of the exit. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” a few people called on their way out, and Taeyong smiled, waving at the students as they went.

“Hey,” panted Jeno as he, Jaemin and Jisung stopped in front of Taeyong, “what’s up? Are we in trouble?”

“Trouble? No, no. I mean, unless you did something to warrant getting in trouble, of course,” said Taeyong.

Jeno shrugged and said, “Eh, nothing I can think of off the top of my head.”

Jaemin stepped hard on Jeno’s shoe.

“Ow!”

“You guys did a great job in class today,” Taeyong said. “I actually wanted to ask the three of you how you’d feel about doing an extra stage at the show in May.”

“An extra stage?” said Jisung, as Jeno and Jaemin glanced at each other in surprise.

“You don’t have to decide right away. You can think about it for a few days, and then let me know what you think. We can stay for an extra twenty minutes or so after classes, if you’re interested, and work on it. Together,” Taeyong said.

“Just us?” asked Jaemin, wide-eyed.

“I’ve been noticing for a few weeks now that working at the class’s pace doesn’t provide you three the same kind of challenge it used to,” Taeyong explained. Jisung stared at the floor and tried not to smile as Taeyong spoke, while Jeno grinned openly and Jaemin just stood with his mouth rounded in an O. “You’re progressing fast,” Taeyong continued. “I want to give you guys some choreo to work on that will keep you learning, know what I mean? Keep your skills moving forward.”

“Whoa,” said Jeno, “sweet.”

Jaemin shuffled awkwardly. “What about Heejin? She’s better than me…”

Taeyong frowned. “Better? No, Heejin’s got her own strengths and you’ve got yours. Besides, I’ve got something else in mind for Heejin and Hyunjin, so don’t worry about that.”

“Oh,” said Jaemin. “Okay.”

“So just think it over, guys, and you can let me know what you decide when we meet on Thursday. No pressure either way, it’s only if you want to.”

“I mean, I’m in,” said Jeno.

“Okay, great. We’ll talk about it next class.” Taeyong hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder.

“Thank you,” chorused Jaemin and Jisung, bowing as Taeyong made his way towards the door. “Yeah, thanks Godyong,” echoed Jeno.

“Jeno,” said Taeyong, trying not to laugh.

“What?” Jeno said innocently. He held his palms out and skipped backwards, following Jaemin and Jisung to the back to get their things.

“No more of this ‘Godyong’ thing,” said Taeyong, hand on the doorknob.

Jeno clapped his hands together and pointed at Taeyong. “Sure, Godyong, whatever you say.”

Jaemin kicked Jeno’s heel and said, “Jeno, shut up.”

“Good- _bye_ , boys,” said Taeyong, “see you next week.”

“Byyye!” they called, and the door fell shut behind him.

Taeyong turned his face up to the sky as he walked out of the studio. The weather was mild for February—Taeyong could almost hear Yuta’s voice saying “ _Global warming_ ”—and the low gold sunlight on his skin was, if not warm, at least pleasant. It was perfect weather for a winter photoshoot, Johnny said. Johnny had passed an interview for a photography job with an entertainment company, and they’d asked him to send in a portfolio including all sorts of different subjects and settings—indoor candids, outdoor candids, indoor shots of individuals, outdoor shots of duos, landscapes, still-life compositions. He often enlisted his friends’ help with his photography, and today he wanted Taeyong and Yuta to play characters in a “narrative,” the nature of which he had yet to explain.

Taeyong’s feet crunched on a slushy crust of last week’s snowbank on the corner of the sidewalk. The only people out today seemed to be couples, mostly university students—these two holding hands as they walked past him, those two passing a coffee back and forth across the street. All pink-cheeked and smiley. It made Taeyong feel vaguely irritated. As he turned onto the block the tea shop was on, he saw a boy getting out of a car and calling to a girl on the sidewalk. The girl pulled out a bouquet of flowers and what looked like a box of chocolates, waving them in the air. The man put a hand over his heart, laughing.

Taeyong looked away, thinking, _What is it with straight people and flowers. Stupid. What’s the point. They’re going to die in a week anyway_ , and pushed through the door into the busy tea shop only to find Yuta, pink-cheeked, smiley, and holding a bouquet of roses, sitting at the table closest to the door.

“Surprise!” Yuta stood up and flourished the roses in Taeyong’s face. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Taeyong felt his heart melt right into his shoes. He gaped at Yuta wordlessly for a second and then swallowed. “What?”

“They’re pretty, right? Smell them. I was thinking about it and I figured your man, like, the guy you have a crush on, probably didn’t get you flowers today, and I thought in that case, these might cheer you up.”

“Ah…” Taeyong took the roses from Yuta and held them to his nose. There was half a dozen—three red and three white. They were velvety and soft and beyond gorgeous. Who cared if they were going to die eventually? They were from Yuta. They were perfect.

“Or _did_ he?” Yuta asked, looking Taeyong over and grinning.

“Who? What?”

“Your guy, did he get you flowers? You look all happy. Like something happened today.”

“Uh…mm,” said Taeyong and hid his face in the roses.

“Oh?” Yuta folded his arms. “Is that a _yes?_ ”

“You’re the only person that got me flowers today, Yuta,” said Taeyong. He peeked over the roses at Yuta’s face, warm in the glow of the sun through the shop window. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you. You’re adorable. You’re so cute.”

Yuta smiled a little bashfully at the words and batted the air with his hand. 

“I didn’t know you were gonna do this. I should have gotten something for you,” said Taeyong, and an abrupt feeling of dismay came over him.

“Oh no no,” said Yuta with a slight eye roll. “Don’t worry about that. You’re enough just by existing.”

Suddenly the urge to hug him was overwhelming. Taeyong set the flowers down on the table, threw his arms around Yuta’s neck and squeezed Yuta to him.

He heard Yuta’s voice, muffled, say “Mmph. Tae.”

Taeyong released him and stepped back. “Huh?”

“My arms,” said Yuta, “you had my arms all trapped,” and he wrapped his arms around Taeyong’s waist and pulled him back in. Taeyong exhaled, and let his hands rest on the small of Yuta’s back. The tea shop hummed with talk, music, and the clatter of machines. Yuta’s head was on his shoulder. It seemed that time had stopped.

_Maybe now…_ Taeyong thought. _Maybe I’ll…yeah, maybe I’ll just…_

“You know something…” Taeyong whispered.

“Hm?” Yuta pulled away, hands still looped around Taeyong’s waist.

“I uh,” said Taeyong and his throat hitched.

Yuta smiled, rubbed Taeyong’s back and said, “You okay?”

Yuta’s smile, gentle like a glimmering ember, made Taeyong’s mind go blank. “Oh. Yes. Yeah,” he said, and tried to recover what he had been about to say. “I want to…let me buy you your tea, so I have something to give you for Valentine’s Day.”

Yuta laughed. “Unnecessary.”

Taeyong rolled his eyes at himself—would he ever manage to get the words out, or would this go on for the rest of their lives?—and Yuta saw the eye roll and said, “I’m serious, you don’t have—”

“Shut it, I’m buying. Non-negotiable,” Taeyong said, and released Yuta. He grabbed for his roses and hugged them to him.

“If you must,” said Yuta as he followed him to the front of the shop.

“Wait wait. What are you even doing here?” Taeyong stopped at the end of the line and turned around. “You distracted me with flowers. Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?”

“Well, yeah, but I got out early because my professor’s a romantic who wanted us to go hang out with our significant others. So I got the roses and brought them here because I figured you might come here after your class let out.” Yuta cocked his head. “You didn’t get my text I was going to be here?”

Taeyong sighed. “Oh. No. I turned my phone off.”

“Oh, why?”

“ _Mark_ ,” Taeyong said sullenly. The line inched forward.

“Mark? What’d he do?”

“He and Lucas kept spamming my phone.”

“Yeah? What about?”

Taeyong shrugged and tried to scoff as if the contents of the spam were irrelevant nonsense. Yuta waited through the scoffing expectantly. Finally Taeyong groaned and said, “About the guy. They want me to confess or something.”

Yuta considered this. “You know that turning your phone off is only a temporary solution to that problem, right? You can just avoid it, but then you’ll have to turn the phone back on and deal with a pileup of messages later and your phone will probably lag and glitch so really you’re just making it worse.”

Taeyong looked at him. “Okay? Thanks for the advice?”

Yuta wiggled his eyebrows and bumped Taeyong’s hip with his own, hard enough to make him stumble forward in line. “It’s a _metaphor_ , Taeyong,” he said as Taeyong stared at him, appalled by the shove. “You’re the phone and the messages are your _feelings_.”

“Very deep,” Taeyong muttered.

“I’m serious. You can’t just turn your heart off or whatever and, like, wait the feelings out. You gotta express that shit. Otherwise it’ll build up and get super chaotic and you might glitch!”

“Who says I turn off my heart? I don’t turn off my heart,” said Taeyong, crossing his arms.

Yuta raised his eyebrows, laughing, “Oh, yes, you do.”

Taeyong spluttered. “I—What?”

“Are you kidding? You’re like the king of suppressing stuff.”

Taeyong was dumbstruck. It wasn’t that Yuta was wrong, or even that he didn’t already know it. But was that how Yuta saw him? “So you’re saying I’m just—some sort of—type-A, emotionally constipated—”

“No, baby, no. You just hold yourself to high-ass standards, because you’re afraid of fucking up, but, you know, if you never try you never succeed, and all that. Taeyong, it’s our turn to order.”

Taeyong turned to the cash register with his face burning, barely able to focus on the cashier as he ordered. When Yuta tried to pay, Taeyong slapped his hand away fiercely, which made Yuta bite back laughter, which made Taeyong scowl even more.

“What lucky girl are those for?” the cashier asked Taeyong sweetly as she passed their bubble tea over the counter, nodding with a coy smile at the roses squeezed in Taeyong’s elbow.

Yuta covered his mouth and turned away. Taeyong could see he was trying not to burst out laughing and it somehow made him even more annoyed.

“Me,” Taeyong said. “They’re for me. I’m the lucky girl.”

The girl, blinking, said, “Oh—”

“He got them for me,” Taeyong continued, jerking his head in Yuta’s direction.

“Ah! That’s—he’s your boyfriend? They’re beautiful, he’s got great taste!” the cashier scrambled.

“Yes,” Taeyong snapped, “he does. And yes, he’s my boyfriend. We are together. Because I love him. And he loves me and we’re gay. So. Yes. We’re dating.”

“Well you’re—you’re a great couple. You look really good together,” said the girl. Her mortified smile had eased a little. She looked like she meant it.

“I know,” said Taeyong, nodding. “He’s the best boyfriend ever. He—”

“Thank you very much,” Yuta cut him off, stepping in to pick up the bubble teas. Taeyong huffed. “Have a good one,” Yuta said and smiled dazzlingly at the cashier before turning around.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” the cashier called as they reclaimed the table at the back.

Yuta looked at Taeyong as they sat down. Taeyong busied himself with moving the chair and adjusting his flowers. “Yo,” Yuta said, “what was _that?_ ”

“Sick of the heterosexual agenda,” Taeyong mumbled.

Yuta shrugged and said, “I mean, I can’t blame you there…”

“And I don’t suppress stuff,” Taeyong said petulantly, even knowing it was a bit of a lie.

Yuta sighed, reached for Taeyong’s hands and clasped them across the table. “Taeyong. It’s okay. Everybody suppresses some stuff at some point. Hell, gays have to do it all the time, right? I just think you’d be less…I don’t know, maybe you’d be able to sleep better and stuff if you told this guy how you feel. That’s all. No pressure.”

Taeyong puffed out his cheeks. The words were there in his throat, _it’s you, dumbass, it’s you, that’s the whole point, it’s YOU_. Instead what came out of his mouth was, “I’m working on it, okay? I’m trying.”

Yuta stuck out his bottom lip. “Aw. Like you’re trying to let him know and he’s not picking up on it? That’s frustrating, baby, I’m sorry.”

_How can someone this pretty be this dumb,_ Taeyong thought. _It doesn’t equate._

Yuta laughed. “Actually, you’re that TWICE song that Hyuck sang over February birthdays. How does it go. _Trying to let you know…_ ”

“You’re the worst.”

“I beg to differ,” Yuta sniffed. They looked at each other for a moment. Then Yuta grinned, leaned forward and whispered, “Oh my god, just tell me who it is.”

Taeyong groaned.

“No, I get it, I get it. You don’t want me to get jealous or, like, rip him limb from limb for making you sad. But I _won’t_. I promise I’ll be good.” Yuta made puppy dog eyes. Taeyong wanted to punch him in the nose.

“Shut up. Why would I think you’d get jealous? Or rip anyone limb from limb, for that matter.”

“Just tell me if I know him,” Yuta pleaded. “Tell me if he was there for February birthdays.”

“You asked me that yesterday and the day before,” said Taeyong.

“So he was, huh,” said Yuta, aiming his bubble tea at Taeyong so the straw pointed at his face.

“I have to try to work on my song before we go to Johnny’s,” Taeyong said, pulling out his phone and pressing the power button.

“For the record, I still think it’s Jaehyun,” said Yuta, and Taeyong gasped in exasperation.

“It’s _not_ Jaehyun!”

“Likely story.”

Taeyong’s phone powered on and immediately started to jangle as text after text came in under Lucas’s contact. Taeyong moaned and put his head down on the table.

For a half hour Taeyong fruitlessly wracked his brain for a melody line that had any dynamism while Yuta looked at curtains online that he wanted to order for the kitchen window, and then they left for Johnny’s. Taeyong had managed to stem Lucas’s flow of spam texts by unblocking Mark and agreeing to bring fried rice cakes to their dorm soon. The streets were still filled with couples, but with Yuta keeping pace beside him, it wasn’t irritating anymore. It wasn’t…lonely. For a few minutes they talked about whether they should get sheer curtains or opaque ones for the window, and then walked quietly the rest of the way to Johnny’s apartment. As they drew closer to the river, Taeyong could see a blue strip of water between the gray buildings at the bottom of the street. It was vivid in the sun.

“Yuta, did you bring your makeup stuff?” Johnny asked when he opened the door, looking them up and down with an unsatisfied expression. Yuta held up his backpack. Johnny beckoned and left the door standing open.

The apartment was as much a mess as ever. Johnny was a hoarder, and it was obvious from the moment one stepped into his apartment. A massive purple teddy bear that one of their friends, Taeyong couldn’t remember who, had won at a carnival years ago and given to Johnny was sitting immediately inside the entrance, wearing a Chicago Cubs baseball cap and balancing two books on his round belly while at least three scarves were slung over his arm. Taeyong followed Yuta around the bear and on its other side had to dodge a stack of cardboard boxes on top of which sat a Lotte World snowglobe and a chocolate bar. “I need a sort of sexy street look,” said Johnny from somewhere in the depths of the apartment. “No offense, but y’all look kind of innocent right now.”

“No offense taken,” Taeyong said as he and Yuta filed into the cramped living room. Taeyong went to Johnny’s window to look at the river.

“Uhh, and if you could paint your nails real quick that would be sweet,” added Johnny, reappearing in the doorway of his bedroom and bending to lift his laptop off the couch and shuffle through the array of photographs and papers beneath it. “Preferably either, like, both of you with dark colors, or one bright and one dark. Fucking fuck, I can’t find my goddamn notes I had for the shoot.”

Taeyong nudged a canvas bag filled with fake flowers to the side and sat down in the space it had left on the floor, cradling his roses in his lap. Yuta knelt in front of him and asked Johnny, “What’s the vibe? What am I working with here?”

“The directions said 2 male subjects, outdoors, casual fashion, edgy and…edgy and something, I can’t fucking remember. I’m trying to find my sheet of ideas I wrote down…”

“So guys painting their nails constitutes edginess now?” Taeyong said as Yuta pulled an eyeshadow palette out of his backpack and gestured for Taeyong to close his eyes.

“By extensive trial and error, I’ve started to learn with these kinds of companies,” Johnny said, his voice moving across the room as he spoke, “that nowadays when they say ‘edgy,’ they mean ‘vaguely and indefinably homoerotic,’ which is why you two are perfect.”

“There’s a lot going on in that sentence you just said to us, Johnny,” Yuta said.

“Hang on, I’ll bring up the email.”

Yuta brushed eyeshadow airily over Taeyong’s eyelids and then dabbed underneath them.

“Here. _‘Edgy and ardent.’_ That’s your outline.”

“Ardent. The fuck?” Yuta said.

“I wrote down some things I wanted you guys to try, but now I can’t find…” Johnny’s voice went back across the living room and disappeared into his bedroom again.

“ _Ardent_ ,” Yuta muttered again. He brushed at the corners of Taeyong’s eyes.

“Are you gonna wear eyeliner?” Taeyong said.

The movement of the brush didn’t pause. “Yeah, I think. Probably just that.”

“Can I put it on you?”

Yuta clucked his tongue. “That’d be a no. Solid no.”

“Why nooot,” Taeyong whined, even though he knew the answer.

“Shush. Your face moves when you talk.”

“But—”

“Because I don’t like wearing makeup,” said Yuta, removing his hand to pick up more eyeshadow on the brush, “and I _especially_ don’t like wearing makeup done by anyone other than myself, and you already know all of that.”

“You get to do my makeup all the time,” Taeyong said. “And I’ve never done yours _once_.”

“Nuh-uh. You did in high school that one time.”

“ _When?_ ”

“I don’t know, like, some summer at my house. You got glitter in my eye and I couldn’t see shit for a week.”

“That’s a lie.”

“It happened.”

“You’re just afraid of having pointy things near your eyes,” Taeyong said, opening his own eyes at the tap of Yuta’s fingers on his temple that signaled he was finished.

“So what if I am.” Yuta rummaged in his backpack.

Johnny passed behind Yuta saying, “I think I actually left it in my car. Be right back, Frankie,” he said to the purple bear, and a moment later they heard the front door shut.

“Can I at least paint your nails?” Taeyong asked.

Yuta looked up and smiled. “Yes. Obviously.”

“Okay, good.”

“I only have a few of my colors with me. Here.” Yuta spread six or seven bottles of nail polish on the floor. Together they considered them.

Taeyong asked, “What color do you want?”

“Mmm…” Yuta pointed to a polish labeled “ _DEEPEST MIDNIGHT_.” “Black. Like my soul.”

“Yeah, as if your soul isn’t bright flaming hot pink,” Taeyong said, unscrewing the cap.

“ _Manly_ hot pink,” said Yuta and fanned his fingers out on his knee for Taeyong to paint.

Taeyong leaned forward, but Yuta’s fingers were a little too far away for Taeyong to comfortably position his hand. For a moment he hesitated. Then he picked up Yuta’s hand and placed it on his own knee. He could feel the warmth of Yuta’s skin through his jeans. _No blushing, NO BLUSHING_ , he told himself in vain, and bent his face closer to Yuta’s nails to paint them.

“Your soul is like a light gold,” said Yuta suddenly.

“What?”

“Like, your aura, or whatever.”

Taeyong held Yuta’s pinky between his fingers so he could wipe away a stray smudge of polish. “So, the color of Sicheng’s hair.”

“No, no. Like a pale gold, like…you know, like sunlight.”

A sparkly feeling fluttered in Taeyong’s stomach in spite of himself. He wanted to look up into Yuta’s eyes, but wasn’t sure he could face him this close. He painted one more coat over Yuta’s pinky and reached for his other hand. Yuta raised the painted nails to his face and blew on them lightly.

“So my soul is really pink?” Yuta asked a moment later.

Taeyong had been thinking about this for a minute. “I think I see you in rainbow,” he said.

Yuta let out a laugh. “Gay enough for me.”

The front door opened and Johnny burst back into the apartment with his hands on his head. “I must have left it at the fucking pet store. I’m going to kill myself.”

“You know that your phone has an app where you can write down your notes, instead of having all these papers floating around your apartment and killing trees,” said Yuta, looking up at him.

“You say that as if I’m guaranteed to know where my phone is at any given point in time,” said Johnny, disappearing into his tiny kitchen.

Taeyong had finished Yuta’s nails and Yuta was painting Taeyong’s over in _COBALT SHIMMER_ by the time Johnny reappeared, triumphantly waving a piece of tiny notebook paper over his head. “I FOUND IT! I FOUND IT. It was under some preliminary prints I brought home from the Ekne project.”

“Are our clothes okay? I brought a pair of ripped black jeans with me but nothing else,” said Yuta.

Johnny paused to look them over. “Yeah…yeah, you’re fine. Let’s go soon if we can, we have like an hour and a half before we lose the good sunlight.”

Yuta put on a thick line of black eyeliner and accented it with a streak of tangerine, which made Johnny go, “Oh! Yeah!” and then, after sticking Taeyong’s roses in a cup of water, he hurried them out the door. In the half hour they’d spent upstairs, the light on the river had shifted. Instead of reflecting the hard-candy blue of the sky, it now shone silver-orange. They passed through an exercise park, Yuta stopping to play on a pullup bar just to annoy Johnny, and then finally made their way to the edge of the water, where Johnny directed them to look off into the distance coldly while leaning their elbows on each other’s shoulders.

The glare off the glassy water was harsh in Taeyong’s eyes. He tried not to squint too angrily into the light, while Yuta gazed pensively in the other direction.

“Taeyong, you look too happy to be here. Don’t forget that I’m not paying you for this. Yuta, can you get a little closer to Yong—actually, can you, like, put your arm on his shoulder and then your chin on your arm—yeah, yeah. Like that.” Johnny’s camera shuttered. Taeyong blinked into the sun. “Okay, now move. Do something else.”

“Like what?” Taeyong said, turning around.

“Anything. Model. Do it like you did that one time last year when I made you model the Sicone exclusives.”

They shuffled awkwardly, and Taeyong leaned his back against Yuta’s, contemplating Seoul’s skyline. He didn’t usually feel self-conscious on camera, not as much as he did when he was a kid, but there was something about being so close to Yuta while his facial expressions were being recorded for posterity—it made him a little nervous. After a few seconds Yuta shifted and Taeyong angled his body towards him.

“Yuta, can I have more…more uh…can I have you look at the camera?” Johnny circled around them and Yuta followed the camera with his eyes. “Nice,” said Johnny. “Remember. Edgy. Ardent. Indefinably homoerotic.”

“The homoerotic part would work better if we were actually boyfriends,” said Yuta at the same time that he hooked a finger through Taeyong’s belt loop and tugged him a step closer so their hips collided. Taeyong looked at him, startled.

“Yes, yes! That, right there, Taeyong, don’t change your expression. Don’t look away from Yuta. Nice. Yuta, look at the river. Okay. Now look at Taeyong. No, Taeyong, don’t look away—” Johnny made a disgusted noise. “Damn it, Taeyong, you broke the, the, the tension. Ugh. Fine, it’s fine, I got some good stuff. Keep that, though. That, like, raw look you had.”

“ _Raw?_ ” Taeyong said.

Yuta laughed, “Jesus, Johnny.”

“Y’all _know_ what I mean. I want ‘do crimes, be gay’ attitude right now. And anyway, you guys are a better couple than most of the actual couples we know. The homoerotic thing isn’t much of a stretch. Taeyong, go sit on that railing.”

“What does that mean?” said Taeyong faintly.

Johnny lowered the camera. “The railing right over there? Sit on it? Don’t fall off into the river?”

“No, I mean, the couple thing, why are we a good couple, we’re not a couple,” said Taeyong as he went to the railing and tried unsuccessfully to jump up onto it.

Johnny and Yuta both eyed him while he struggled to hoist himself up onto the rail.

“I don’t know, you guys just…act like you’re married,” said Johnny. “You always have. You’re like this little self-contained love unit.”

Taeyong shrieked as Yuta, suddenly, bent in front of him and wrapped both arms around his thighs. “Yuta? Yuta!” he said and grappled at Yuta’s shoulders to steady himself while Yuta heaved him up and plopped him onto the railing unceremoniously, lifting one hand to brace Taeyong’s back so he didn’t topple onto the rocks.

“Maybe _warn_ me next time, jackass!” Taeyong said and smacked Yuta’s shoulder, his heart racing.

Yuta leaned on the railing and turned to Johnny with a breezy grin. “Care to join our love unit, pal?”

Johnny dropped to one knee to get a lower angle. “Yeah, no. Thanks anyway.”

“I just mean,” said Taeyong, “that if homoerotic is what you’re going for, then you should have gotten a legit couple. Taeil and Sicheng would have done it.”

Johnny sighed and lowered his camera again. “Okay, I don’t know why you’re all sensitive today, but I’m not trying to get candids right now. That means shut up and _pose_. Number one, I’ve known both of you a hundred years longer than I’ve known Taeil, _or_ Sicheng for that matter, and it would be way weirder telling them how to act than telling you guys. Besides, how homoerotic can I expect them to get, they’re asexual.”

“That doesn’t mean they couldn’t pull it off,” Yuta mused.

“Sure, but not as well as you guys can. You guys just have, just, _something_ on camera. Some kinda chemistry. Sorry. It must be said.”

Yuta gave a low, hummed laugh and looked at Taeyong. His smile was somehow hesitant, as if Johnny’s words had made him a little shy. He rarely looked at Taeyong that way—uncertainly—and it made Taeyong want to fold into himself like a snail receding into its shell.

“Oh, oh. Both of you, don’t do anything. But drop the smiles. But don’t change anything else.” Johnny snapped a few photos and then said, “Taeyong, can you put your hand on Yuta’s neck?”

Taeyong blinked and looked at Johnny, who nodded, and Taeyong tentatively raised his hand to Yuta’s throat but Johnny said, “No, _Christ_ , Taeyong, not that kinky, they want homoerotic but they don’t actually want homo, and they definitely don’t want homo choking. I meant the back of his neck. And turn your face a little bit to the side, like a liiiiittle bit, like 2 degrees. Now look down.”

 _Come on, Lee Taeyong, keep it together_ , Taeyong thought.

“John, there’s a cloudy front coming up behind you, so get your sun shots now,” Yuta said.

Johnny turned around and groaned at the sight of grayness rolling in from the south over the translucent purple sky. Taeyong glanced up at it. Johnny stood, carried his camera to the other side of them, and then got out his little sheet of paper.

“Okay, uh,” he said as he scanned over it, “yeah, let’s turn up the fierceness for a minute. Let’s make this really juicy, okay? And then we’ll go over to the bridge for a second and it’ll be more chill.”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead,” said Yuta.

“Okay so, fierce, please. Taeyong, can you pull one knee up and put your heel on the railing, kind of under your butt? Will that work? Yeah. And can you act like you’re, like, a dissatisfied teenager whose only coherent desire is to disobey his parents?”

Taeyong screwed up his face into a sullen scowl.

“Not that _hostile_ , though,” Johnny said, and Taeyong eased his frown. “Yeah, great. Yuta, stand over there.”

“No! I’ll fall if he doesn’t keep his hand on my back!” Taeyong said.

“No, you won’t. Put your leg down if you have to. Yuta, right there. A little backwards, so Taeyong’s shadow isn’t on you. Great, now Taeyong, you look at Yuta, and Yuta, look at the river. Other side—yes. Taeyong, _homoerotic_ , please, not disgruntled retail employee.”

“But you just said my only desire is to disobey my parents,” said Taeyong.

Johnny exhaled dramatically and said, “Don’t listen to me. Since when should you take anything I say seriously? Forget what I said. Your only desire is now to get railed by the handsome stranger on the river.”

Yuta laughed aloud. Taeyong rolled his eyes and then his gaze fell on Yuta, who had let his face settle into a cold expression. His eyes were lit up by the sun falling on his orange eyeliner. Taeyong put his chin on his knee. Suddenly he felt grateful for the chance to just stare, to take him in, without having to glance away periodically or nod along to conversation. To freely follow the lines of his face with his eyes.

“Okay. Okay. Hold this for a second,” Johnny said.

Despite his flinty stare, a muscle in Yuta’s jaw twitched. He looked like he was barely holding back laughter. The wind blew his hair in his eyes, and Taeyong tried not to smile.

“Cool, now come back,” Johnny said to Yuta, and beckoned. “Put one hand on the railing next to Yong. Don’t lean quite so close yet. Yeah, right there. Fierce, guys. Edgy.”

“Where am I looking?” said Taeyong.

“At Yuta. Remember, you want him desperately. But not so desperately that old straight men will reject my portfolio. Yuta, you look at me.”

While the camera clicked, Taeyong wondered if he was doing a convincing job of acting like he was acting when he looked at Yuta like he wanted him. Then he started to wonder how long they had been doing this and what time it was.

“Now put your other hand on the other side of Taeyong, Yuta,” said Johnny.

“What, so he’s, like, between my arms?”

“Yeah.”

_It’s got to be past 5 by now_ , Taeyong thought. _Max is probably getting hungry_. He could feel the slight pressure of Yuta’s arms on either side of him. It felt warm, and safer than a minute ago, when there was nothing preventing him from toppling backwards off the rail but himself. Yuta was still looking out at the river. The light on his face was fading.

“John, my hands are cold as fuck on this railing,” said Yuta out the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, just give me like, sixty seconds. Do me a favor,” said Johnny, “look at Taeyong like you want to eat him alive.”

Taeyong barely had half a second to prepare himself before Yuta turned his head and looked up at him through his lashes, lids heavy, lips parting, his gaze downright predatory.

“Nice,” Johnny said as Taeyong physically felt all the blood drain from his head. The next thing he knew gravity was pulling him in a direction he didn’t want to go, and he flailed and said, “Fuck,” but he was already falling backwards.

“Taeyong!” Johnny shouted and Taeyong ever-so-briefly contemplated his own mortality, but then there were hands on his back, and arms yanking him up over the railing, and Yuta was pressing his body close to his own.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Taeyong gasped, burying his face in Yuta’s shoulder and stamping his feet on the solid ground.

“Did you just fucking faint?” Yuta said, his arms still locked around Taeyong’s waist.

“No! I—I just lost my balance!”

Taeyong felt Johnny’s hands on his shoulder. “Holy shit. Yuta just saved your fucking life.”

Yuta pulled away and held Taeyong at arm’s distance, looking at him critically. Johnny’s camera lay abandoned on its side several feet away. “What did you eat today?” Yuta said.

Taeyong laughed breathily and said, “Yuta, I’m fine, I just lost my balance.”

Johnny said, “It was your fault, Yuta. You looked so sexy he fell,” and cackled.

“Hahaaa,” said Taeyong nervously.

Yuta ignored them. “What did you eat?” he demanded. His hands still gripped Taeyong’s hips as if he expected him to fall backwards again.

“Yuta, I ate, I ate. I had black bean noodles for lunch. And I just had bubble tea with you.”

Johnny said, “Yo, it’s on me, I shouldn’t have made him put one foot up. Look, I got some good shots. Let’s just wrap up and go home.”

“Are you sure?” said Taeyong. Yuta finally let him go and put his hands on his own hips, still frowning.

Johnny was looking down at his note paper. He crumpled it up and said, “No, yeah, I only need five photos at the end of the day. Come on, I’ll make you guys some food.”


	6. i like you the most in this earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like you the most in this earth / o!gon

Johnny made tacos, as he always did when his friends helped him with a photoshoot, because it was the only thing he knew how to make, and Taeyong and Yuta left shortly after to get home and feed Max. On the subway they were talking about Yuta’s professors when the conversation faltered a second or two, and Yuta suddenly said, “Hey, maybe you need to start getting decent sleep and _then_ your writer’s block will go away. Instead of trying to finish the song in time and telling yourself you’ll start sleeping more after the competition is over. Like, the brain has to be rested to exercise creativity, right? Maybe you’re—”

“What? Yuta—Yuta, I already get decent sleep.”

“Oh my god, not this again.” Yuta folded his arms. He looked irritated. “Taeyong, your body is like, _screaming_ for rest. You literally passed out today.”

“I did not pass out! Yuta, I told you, I got off balance. The railing was too thin to stay steady on.”

Yuta made a _tsk_ noise. “Okay, but there was a split second where you just—you gave me this, like, hollow-ass look before you fell over. Like you were blacking out for a second. I swear to god your soul was not in your body.”

“Well, maybe,” Taeyong said, and laughed, and then coughed, “that was because of the way you looked at me.”

Yuta glanced up, eyebrows raised, and they looked at each other for a second. Then Yuta burst out laughing. “Oh my god. Yeah. Right. Maybe that’s my secret superpower, knocking people over with bedroom eyes.”

“Hah. Who knows,” Taeyong said, laughing through gritted teeth.

The train was pulling into the station. Yuta grabbed the pole and stood up. “I mean, if you’re sure it was just because you tipped over then okay, whatever. But my point about the brain needing rest to be creative still stands. Think about it!”

“Fine, I get it...”

Taeyong followed Yuta through the open doors of the train and out of the station, the roses clasped in his fists. Night had fallen, but Yuta still shone like a match. The way he had every color in him was dazzling, Taeyong thought. Red when he was brave, when he left Japan to come to Korea, when he ignored his parents’ disapproval to go to cosmetic school. Orange when he was warm, bringing Taeyong under his wing at fifteen, taking Max in, watching out for Hyuck. Yellow when he laughed. Blue when he was quiet. Pink when he looked at Taeyong and reached for his hand—

“Oh my god!” yelped Yuta and stopped dead in his tracks on the sidewalk.

Taeyong turned around, blinking out of his reverie. Yuta was staring at his phone, eyebrows just about shooting off his forehead. He looked up at Taeyong, grinned as enchanting a grin as Taeyong had ever seen him grin, and raised both hands in the air.

“What? What?” Taeyong said.

“Party in homo city!” Yuta said, and began to dance from side to side.

“What happened?” Taeyong swiped for the phone but couldn’t reach it. “Is it Hyuck?”

“No!” Yuta stopped dancing long enough to throw his arms around Taeyong, and Taeyong scrambled out of his grasp, squeaking that he was crushing the roses. “Kang Seulgi is getting MARRIED!” Yuta sang with an opera-like vibrato, attracting a few stares and a smile or two from passerby, and threw his hands in the air again.

“Married?” Taeyong said and hurried after Yuta, who was dancing down the sidewalk. “Kang Seulgi?”

“The goddess herself!”

“To who?”

“To her girlfriend, who else?”

“Oh, that’s adorable,” said Taeyong, and hugged his roses.

“It’s _powerful_ is what it is.”

“And you got an invitation?”

“Yeah, just now.” Yuta stopped walking and grabbed Taeyong by the shoulders. “Lee Taeyong, would you do me the pleasure of being my plus one and accompanying me to this celebration of love, lesbianism and lifelong monogamy?”

Taeyong smiled. He knew Yuta was asking him to go as friends, but it didn’t stop his heart from soaring. Yuta could have asked anyone. He could have gotten a real date. But Yuta chose Taeyong. With a dainty bow and a barely contained giggle, Taeyong said, “Why, dear sir, the pleasure would be mine.”

Yuta bowed deep at the waist in response and then put his hand on Taeyong’s back. “Come on. Let’s tell Max the good news. Oh my god! Can we get Hyuck to ask Mark to go with him?”

Taeyong inhaled audibly. “MARK—wait, Hyuck is going?”

“Yeah, Kang Seulgi put me and Ten and Hyuck in a chat room to invite us, I guess she thinks of us as a little gang. Heh. That’s kind of cute. She said paper invitations are coming in the mail but she wanted us to save the date ASAP.”

“So Hyuckie’s going to need a plus-one, huh,” Taeyong said and tapped his finger on his chin.

“MmmMMMmm,” Yuta hummed happily.

“I didn’t even know Kang Seulgi knew you well enough to invite you to her wedding,” said Taeyong.

Yuta was bouncing on his heels with excitement. “Hm?”

“The last few times I heard anything about her, someone was describing her as some distant divine figure who doesn’t interact with mortals.”

“Oh, no, that’s the best part about Kang Seulgi, she’s actually super nice,” Yuta said. “I mean at the beginning of the semester I used to be kind of intimidated by her, but now we’re all friends and Kang Seulgi is the friendliest friend. A benevolent queen.”

Taeyong said, “Kang Seulgi. Do you ever just call her Seulgi?”

“No, you can’t,” said Yuta, offering no explanation as he turned into the doorway of their apartment building and punched in the door code.

Yuta fed Max while Taeyong found a vase for his roses and put them in the middle of the kitchen table. Half an hour later the two of them were on Yuta’s bed, Yuta curled at the pillow end and Taeyong sitting at the foot, each of them listening to music in their own earphones. Taeyong was trying to absorb the artistic essence of some of his favorite singers by listening to “And July” by Heize and Dean on repeat and writing down what he liked best about it in his notebook. It was getting late, but neither of them noticed.

“Can you get him?” said Yuta, sticking out a foot to poke Taeyong’s leg.

“What?” Taeyong said, removing an earphone. Then he heard it—the yowling from outside the door.

“Max,” said Yuta, even though Taeyong was already getting up. He set his notebook and pen down on the bed and went to open the door, where Max was pacing delicately. He stopped to give Taeyong a _“took you guys long enough”_ look.

“What do you want?” Taeyong asked the cat, who flicked his striped tail.

_I could ask you the same thing, loverboy,_ the cat’s blinking yellow eyes seemed to say.

“You’re not allowed in here,” Taeyong said.

Max pitter-pattered down the hallway a few meters, and then turned around to see if Taeyong was following.

“Give him a treat,” said Yuta from the bed.

“He just ate dinner! Do you want him to have a heart attack and die at middle age? Because that’s what he’s going to do if we keep feeding him the way we feed him.”

_“Meow!”_ Max interrupted impatiently.

“Fine,” Taeyong muttered, and followed Max to the kitchen where he fed him a couple of fish treats. Max swallowed them whole and gratefully clawed at Taeyong’s pant leg.

“Okay, _okay_ ,” Taeyong said. He scooped Max up to his chest, which he melted into, bloblike, with a noise of contentment. Together they trooped back to Yuta’s room.

“He’s not allowed in here,” Yuta said.

“Too bad, he’s lonely,” said Taeyong, and climbed back onto the end of the bed using only one hand while the other held Max tightly. Before he’d even managed to get back onto the bed, Max began meowing again, louder this time, and scrabbling at Taeyong’s arms.

“ _Yuta…_ ” said Taeyong.

Yuta, who was watching them over his phone with a small smile, sat up and sighed, “All right, give me the fattie.”

Taeyong relinquished his grip on Max and the cat scrambled into Yuta’s arms. Yuta laid back down, turning his attention back to his phone, and Max stamped his feet onto Yuta’s chest happily before curling up there and closing his eyes. Taeyong watched him wistfully. He wanted to tuck himself into the space next to Yuta, shove the cat off Yuta’s chest, and rest his head there instead.

“You look so jealous right now,” Yuta laughed, peering at Taeyong over the lump of fur.

“What? Jealous?”

“We need to get another cat so your heart doesn’t keep getting broken by this asshole’s blatant favoritism,” Yuta said, and Taeyong exhaled. He’d thought Yuta was saying he was jealous of the cat.

“The only reason he likes you better than me,” Taeyong said, “is because he thinks you’re one of them. If he were at all aware that you’re not a real kitty, he’d be over you in a second.”

“Who says I’m not a real kitty,” Yuta replied. Max trilled in agreement.

Taeyong picked up his notebook again and uncapped his pen. His heart felt full. Full, and longing. It was still strange to him that even being so saturated with love, he could want more.

“Hey Yuta,” he said. His voice felt thick suddenly.

Yuta looked up at him over Max’s head. Only his eyes, nose and smiling cheeks were visible.

“Today was the best Valentine’s Day ever,” Taeyong said.

Yuta sat up, catching Max between his elbows. “Better than the year you went to the hot springs in Haeundae with what’s-his-face and lost your virginity?”

Taeyong covered his face. “Oh my god. I’m trying to be serious here.”

“I am serious!” Yuta said in the most mock-serious tone possible. “You said it was the most romantic day of your life.”

“I mean, at the _time_ ,” Taeyong said, “I _guess_. You know what, no, I just thought it was super romantic because he was my first boyfriend and he treated me nicely. It wasn’t even that good.”

“Losing your virginity never is,” Yuta lamented.

“Don’t even. You lost yours to a model who was hopelessly in love with you,” Taeyong said.

At the sight of Yuta’s smirk, Taeyong lunged at him and pummeled his shoulder. Yuta recoiled, looking scandalized, and said, “Hey! I have a cat in my arms! You can’t hit me, that’s like hitting a pregnant lady!”

“It is nothing like hitting a pregnant lady,” Taeyong said, and smacked him one more time just for good measure. Max watched the goings-on from his perch on Yuta’s forearms unsympathetically, licking a paw.

Yuta said, several seconds later, “I wasn’t in love with him though,” and when Taeyong looked at him, he was surprised to see his face was downcast.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Taeyong said and scooted closer. Yuta glanced at him and smiled a little.

“You never told me you…you wished you hadn’t…” Taeyong said.

Yuta shrugged and shook his head. “No, I mean, it’s not really that. It was fine. It just…I only did it to see if…yeah, it was a long time ago. Virginity is just a social construct anyway, so it’s not like it matters, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s okay if it matters to you, though,” Taeyong said.

“It—nah. It happened, whatever.” Yuta scratched behind Max’s ears and half a smirk crept back onto his face. “Besides, Jungwoo was fucking hot.”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” said Taeyong.

Yuta widened his eyes. “What? He was!”

Taeyong couldn’t think of a way to explain why he felt irritated at hearing about how hot the people Yuta had nailed were, so he just said, “I mean, he still _is_. He’s not dead.”

Yuta shook his head. “No, he’s not. He’s thriving. He’s dating an actor, I saw the other day on Instagram.”

“Oh, good for him.”

“Mhm,” Yuta said. Max was shifting in his arms, trying to climb closer to his face or his shoulder or something. Yuta grabbed him by his round middle and set him down on the bed, where he wandered to Yuta’s feet and curled up on top of them. “I didn’t let you finish,” Yuta said. “What made today the best Valentine’s Day ever?”

Taeyong sighed. “You.”

He hadn’t really meant to say that, at least, not so directly, but the smile that came onto Yuta’s face was worth it.

“Me?” Yuta said.

Taeyong nodded.

“So the roses were a success,” Yuta said. “I’ll take note.”

“I mean, the roses,” said Taeyong, “and the, the bubble tea, and the photoshoot, and you catching me so I didn’t fall to my death, and asking to take me to the wedding, and just generally…existing…”

Yuta was laughing. “Okay. Okay. I’m starting to see what Johnny meant when he said we act like we’re married.” He seemed to have missed the last part of what Taeyong said.

“It wouldn’t be so bad,” said Taeyong. Where was all this nerve coming from?

“What wouldn’t be so bad?” Yuta said.

“Being married?”

“You bring me the papers,” said Yuta, “and I will sign them any time of the day or night.”

_THIS ISN’T A JOKE_ , Taeyong wanted to scream. _I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU_. Max was chewing at the corner of one of Yuta’s pillows. Taeyong yanked the pillow away and Max glowered up at him.

“Not that we can actually get papers,” Yuta was saying, oblivious to the power struggle between Taeyong and the cat, “because gay, but we can do it ourselves like Seulgi and Joohyun. Or we can go to Taiwan. They’ve got gay marriage there now.”

“Go Taiwan,” Taeyong said.

Yuta put an elbow on his shoulder. “You know what I want to do right now?”

Taeyong inhaled. Yuta’s hair was falling in his eyes and his lips were a little chapped from the dry winter air. Taeyong could think of any number of things he’d like to do right now. “What?”

“Watch _Mulan_ and reexamine the bisexual subtexts,” Yuta said, and Taeyong deflated.

“I have to work on my song.”

Yuta turned up a pout. “Just take a break and do something chill,” Yuta said. “Please? Take a break with me.”

“Okay,” said Taeyong.

Yuta blinked and beamed. “Oh, that was easy.” He touched Taeyong’s hair, then lifted Max up and went to the living room. Taeyong closed his notebook and followed him.

Mark squeezed a rice cake between his chopsticks, lifted it out of the takeout dish and waved it in the air like a flag. “So what you’re saying is that you’re _trying_ to tell him,” he said.

“This tteokbokki is spicy as all fuck,” said Lucas on the other side of the dorm room.

“But he’s not listening to you,” Mark went on, biting into the rice cake and then continuing to gesticulate with the rest of it.

“I mean, it’s not that he’s not listening,” said Taeyong, “it’s that he’s…not hearing me.”

“What does that even mean?” said Lucas.

“What have you said to him exactly?” Mark asked.

Taeyong picked at his own tteokbokki vacantly. “I mean I…” He shrugged. “I _want_ to tell him, right, like I really want to tell him, almost every second of every day I want to say, ‘By the way, I want to be your boyfriend,’ but it’s so _hard_ to like…get the words out…!”

“So you haven’t said anything to him,” said Mark, nodding and eating another rice cake.

“There’s never a right time!”

“There’s never a right time for that stuff,” said Lucas. The dorm room was warm, heat cranked high, but 90% of Lucas was tucked under his bedcovers. Only his head and arms were poking out so he could eat. “If you spend all your time waiting for the right time, then you waste all the time you could have spent _together_.”

Mark said, “Yo, that was wise.”

“Thank you.”

“You guys seem to think that the second I tell him I love him, he’ll drop everything and instantly agree to date me. That’s not what’s going to happen,” Taeyong said.

Mark rolled his eyes. Lucas said, “We could debate that.”

Taeyong placed his rice cakes on the carpet in front of him and crossed his legs. “And besides, it’s not like I haven’t been trying, okay?”

“You keep saying you’re trying. Trying how? What does ‘trying’ mean?”

“Well like,” Taeyong said, “for a while I was going to just say it straight up, but every time I wanted to, I sort of choked. So I started trying to just…hint? But whenever I do, he thinks I’m joking or something.”

“So you’re not hinting hard enough,” Mark said.

Taeyong scowled. “I’m hinting hard! I told him I had the best Valentine’s Day ever because of him, and he just made a joke about something Johnny said about us being married, and I was like, hey, we should get married, and he was like sure, let’s move to Taiwan, ha ha ha.”

“Oh, those are pretty hard hints,” said Lucas sympathetically.

“You’ve got to just say it, dude.” Mark was shaking his head.

“IT’S DIFFICULT.”

“It’s not that difficult.”

“If it’s not that difficult, then why haven’t you asked Donghyuck out yet?” Taeyong snapped, and

immediately Mark flushed the color of a cherry tomato.

“Ooh-hoo- _hoooo_ ,” Lucas laughed, kicking his feet under his covers.

“That’s different!” Mark said.

“Yes, it is different. I have to confess to someone that I’m in _love_ with him,” Taeyong said, “and all you have to do is ask a guy to go get coffee.”

“That—that—!” Mark set his tteokbokki dish down on his desk so he could fold his arms heatedly. “That is not…! Yuta is your best friend, he already loves you! For Hyuck I’m just some guy he met at a party.”

“Okay, just—number one, no.” Taeyong ate another piece of tteokbokki and reached for a napkin. “You are not just some guy he met at a party. You’re my brother.”

“He also got flustered every time you did anything at February birthdays,” Lucas added.

“Yes.” Taeyong held out a hand to Lucas. “Exactly. It has been two weeks, _more_ , since you got his number at the party and you’ve barely texted at all. If I were him, I would have given up hope by now.”

Mark groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. “Don’t…say that…”

“Lucas, would you have given up hope by now?” Taeyong said.

Lucas nodded. “Probably woulda given up hope by now.”

“How about this. If you confess to Yuta, I’ll ask Hyuck out,” Mark said. “Okay? Deal?”

Taeyong opened his mouth but Lucas was bellowing from the bed, “NO! If you wait till he confesses, you’ll never ask Hyuck out!”

“Hey!” said Taeyong.

“I’m just saying,” said Lucas and stuffed three rice cakes into his mouth. “Mark, if you’re going to ask Hyuck out, then you better do it now before you lose your shot.”

“The same goes for Taeyong,” Mark grouched.

Lucas was licking his fingers. “It’s more complicated for him. You have no excuse.”

Mark stared moodily into his rice cake dish, empty except for some sticky red sauce. “Yong, have you seen him since the party?”

“Mhm. He comes over to our apartment all the time,” Taeyong said. “More than you do, actually, which now that I think about it is kind of strange…”

“Does he ever, like,” Mark said, “uhhhh, mention me?”

Taeyong thought back to the weekend before, when Donghyuck had beat his fists on the living room carpet and wailed, “WHY WON’T YOUR BROTHER TEXT ME,” then rolled over and threatened to bring down the blood rains of hell on Taeyong’s head if he relayed the conversation to Mark.

“I’m um,” Taeyong told Mark, “not really supposed to talk about that.”

Mark perked up. Lucas leaned forward and said, “Ooh! What’s there not to talk about?”

“You have to tell me. I’m your _brother_. Family loyalty!” Mark said.

Taeyong twiddled his thumbs and whistled, letting his eyes wander up to corner of the ceiling.

“You’re really not going to tell me what he said about me?” Mark sat back in his chair, looking disgusted. “You’re a traitor for this.”

“Why are you both always calling me traitors?” said Taeyong. “You two belong together.”

Mark squinted at him. “You mean Hyuck?” Lucas said.

“Why did Hyuck call you a traitor?” said Mark.

“Long story. Guys, can we focus? I need _help_ here. I bought you guys tteokbokki. Now give me advice.”

“Count to three and tell him you love him,” said Mark.

“I meant _good_ advice,” Taeyong said. “Advice that I can actually use.”

“That’s great advice!” Mark said indignantly.

“We’ve already established that I can’t get up the nerve to say it to his face. So, other ideas?”

Lucas beckoned. “We can text him now. Here.” He patted the bed next to him, which drew a laugh from Mark because of how funny he looked with his knees tented under his covers. “I’ll type it out and send it for you. Quick and painless.”

“Painless?” Taeyong said. “Right. Yeah, no, thank you, Lucas.”

“What if you like, flirt,” said Mark.

“What?”

“Like _aggressively_ flirt. Like, seduce him or something, I don’t know.”

Taeyong guffawed. “ _Seduce_ him?”

“Give him a surprise lap dance next time he’s sitting on the couch,” said Lucas.

Taeyong put his head in his hands. “What am I doing. I’m not going to get any decent ideas out of you two numbskulls.” He stood up and grabbed his coat off the end of Mark’s bed.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Mark said.

“To find Ten and ask _him_ what I should do,” said Taeyong and reached for the doorknob.

“Oh! Ten like _Ten_ Ten? Tell him I say hi,” Lucas said.

“Bye, bro, love you too, thanks for the tteokbokki,” called Mark as Taeyong left.

Taeyong backtracked, grabbed the closing door, and poked his head through. “Sorry. Love you.”

“Me, too?” Lucas said delightedly from his bed.

“Yeah, you too.”

Taeyong bit the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the cutting cold as he braved the long walk from the boys’ dorm to the cosmetic school building. The clouds that had overtaken Seoul on Valentine’s Day had brought a front on their heels, and the city had been plunged into stinging cold. Taeyong didn’t mind the bite of the cold so much—there was something cleansing, clearing, about it—but he did mind that Yuta continued to wear only that dumb brown leather jacket, even when the day’s temperatures peaked well below freezing. Maybe he would steal the stupid thing and hide it away until spring. Then Yuta would have to dig out the heavy winter coat at the back of his closet. Yuta swore up and down he never got cold—what was it he always said? “My body has a heat core, it’s like the center of the Earth.” Idiot. Taeyong remembered when they’d been walking home from drinks with Johnny and Doyoung earlier that winter, and Taeyong, seeing Yuta hugging his arms to him, had put a hand around Yuta’s shoulders to warm him up. He’d felt a shiver go through Yuta’s body and Yuta lean into him. _Heat core, my ass_. Or maybe he should buy Yuta a coat, a really nice, expensive one, that would make Yuta feel bad if he didn’t wear it. Actually, that might work.

Taeyong turned onto the street that the cosmetic school was on, and into a steadier current of pedestrians making their way home from work. A few heads turned to look at him, as they often did in this part of town. He always assumed it was because the school was near the financial district, where the more buttoned-up types worked, and they weren’t used to seeing hair the color of cotton candy around here. It had been even worse back in college—those four or five months before Yuta had gotten rid of his purple hair and after Taeyong had gone mint green, it had been chaos. When they walked together on the street, people’s jaws would drop. Once a kid on a skateboard had asked for a selca with them, maybe thinking they were idols or something. It had all made Taeyong a little wary, but Yuta basked in the attention. Absolutely lapped it up. He would run his hands through his hair when he caught unsuspecting passerby staring at him, turn up his smile to max wattage. He still did that. Taeyong remembered how it always gave him a thrill, seeing strangers widen their eyes or trip over their own feet just a bit, knowing that _he_ was the person walking beside Yuta, and no one else. The idea that anyone who passed them could be wishing they were him. It afforded a rush of pride, of pleasure. Taeyong wondered yet again how he hadn’t realized how he felt about Yuta before this year. The puzzle pieces were all there, and it had taken him _this_ long to put them together. Unbelievable.

He could see the cosmetic school building a couple blocks down the street. It was a square and sturdy cement building. He had dropped by it a few times before. On Wednesdays and Thursdays, Yuta, Ten and Hyuck had practicum sessions for most of the day, and Yuta regularly came out at least ten or twenty minutes later than everyone else, caught up in the details of the latest look he was creating. Taeyong wondered what he was working on today. Probably something numinously beautiful. Yuta’s imagination had no limits. He could transform faces into works of art. Taeyong climbed the steps to the building and leaned into the heavy glass door with his shoulder. He wondered if Yuta was working on a mannequin head today or a real model. Was it a girl? Was she pretty? What if it wasn’t a girl? A mildly terrifying thought struck Taeyong and he sat down hard on a bench in the broad entrance hall. What if Yuta, working on various models at school, found a face he liked to do makeup on more than Taeyong’s? He covered his mouth with one hand. The _horror_.

A stream of students appeared from a hallway at the other end of the lobby and Taeyong stood up, desperate for a familiar face to distract him from his brain’s anxious whirring. Unconsciously he found himself looking for Yuta, and almost missed Ten, whom he’d actually come to see. When Ten stopped in the flow of people and looked at him, Taeyong waved his hands in the air and ran towards him.

“Taeyong?” said Ten, taking out one airpod. “Hey, how are you, sweetie?”

“Ten!” said Taeyong, and returned the airy cheek kiss that Ten had sent his way. “I’m good. What about you?”

“Pretty breezy,” said Ten. He jerked his head back in the direction he’d come. “Yuta is still in there and honestly, at the rate he was going, he’ll probably be a while, but I could go tell him you’re—”

“No, no, actually,” said Taeyong and walked to a square block in the middle of the lobby that students used to sit on, “I was hoping to catch you for a few minutes. If you’ve got a second?”

“Me?” Ten smiled his cupcake-sweet smile. “What a gorgeous surprise. Sure, I’ve got a second. What’s on your mind, honey?”

They sat down on the edge of the block. Taeyong folded his hands in his lap and said, “Um…Yuta.”

Ten’s smile dimpled, but he didn’t laugh. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I—Can I pick your brain about something? It’s just that I’m having a hard time, you know, communicating…”

“Quick heads up, sweetheart,” Ten said, looking around the lobby, “Hyuck might be hanging around here somewhere. He was wrapping up his project a few minutes ago, but he’ll be out any second.”

“Oh,” said Taeyong in a hushed voice, glancing behind him. A few girls he didn’t recognize sat at a distance, eyes on their phones. He leaned closer to Ten and said, “Well, the thing I wanted to ask you is what I should…You’re the only person who knows how I feel about Yuta besides my brother and his roommate, and…”

“You want to tell him but you can’t figure out how?” Ten said.

Taeyong exhaled. “Yeah, basically.”

“I know you’ve probably been over this,” said Ten, “but the only really surefire way to do it is to just say it straight out to his face.”

“I’ve tried,” Taeyong said despondently.

“Hmm.” Ten crossed his legs and perched an elbow on his knee. “I don’t imagine acting flirty would get you anywhere, since you guys are already so close, he wouldn’t take it seriously…”

“Oh my god, exactly,” said Taeyong, struck not for the first time by how perceptive Ten was. “Every time I get a little, like, romantic or anything, he just shoots back a platonic version of whatever I said or laughs.”

“Have you thought about leaving him a note? A letter or something like that?” Ten said.

Taeyong paused. A letter. Not as lame as a text, not as imperfect as a stammered verbal confession…and best of all, he wouldn’t have to be there when Yuta read it.

“Hey Face of the Nation!” a familiar piping voice called from across the lobby. Taeyong jumped, and he, Ten, and everyone else in the room turned towards the sound of the voice.

Hyuck was skipping across the ivory tiles with his shoulder bag flapping behind him. He skidded to a stop next to the block they were sitting on. Ten gave Taeyong a wry smile.

“Hi, Hyuckie,” said Taeyong.

“What are you doing here? Did you bring Yuta food? Can I have some?”

“No food,” said Taeyong, spreading his open palms before him to prove it. Hyuck turned away, blowing a lock of hair off his face.

“No food? Then what are you even good for?”

“Hyuck,” said Ten.

“Just kidding. Taeyong’s good for many, many things.” Hyuck sat down. “Innumerable things. For example, having cute brothers. Okay, cute _brother_ , singular. Speaking of your brother, how is he? Is he healthy? Is he eating well? Has he mentioned anything lately about needing a, oh, I don’t know, husband or a life companion? No? What about a butler? A live-in personal assistant?”

“I heard you need a date to a wedding in a few months,” Taeyong said.

Hyuck paused, but only for a moment. “You heard right. I heard you _don’t_ need a date. That is, you already have one, that is, you _are_ the date, which means, if by some miracle I manage to get your brother to take me, then we could all go together! Oh, and Ten needs a date of his own, but I’m not too concerned about that part.”

They looked at Ten, who gave a circumspect smile and said, “I’m going to bring it up to somebody.”

“Oooh,” said Taeyong, wiggling his head.

“Who exactly? I’m going to need to run a background check on him,” Hyuck said. “Please allow four to six weeks for my investigation to process.”

Ten bit down on his curving bottom lip and rolled his eyes. “It’s someone I’m meeting in twenty minutes at the hotpot place on Beoksong Street, for your information,” he said, standing up.

“Oh _really?_ ” said Hyuck.

“Which is why, my dears,” Ten said, “with your kind permission, I must now take my leave.”

“Good luck! Have a great time!” said Taeyong.

“Text me later if you want,” Ten said to Taeyong, pulling his backpack higher on his shoulder. Ten looked at Hyuck, who was already on his feet, and said, “You. Don’t follow me.”

“Later, Flower Visual,” said Hyuck over his shoulder, keeping pace with Ten out the door. “Wait, so you’re going on a dinner date? Is he hot?” Taeyong heard him ask.

Taeyong looked around. The lobby had mostly cleared. His mind returned to what Ten had suggested a few minutes ago. A note. A letter. It wasn’t a bad idea, in fact, it was a good idea, it was a great idea. Already, he was thinking of things he wanted to say. He’d always been so much better at expressing himself on paper. Yeah, this could work. He’d only have to work up the courage to leave the letter out for Yuta in the morning and then leave the house early.

He got out his phone and opened the notes app. As the contents of the letter began to take shape on the phone screen, a buoyant feeling warmed his limbs.

“Tae? Tae!”

Taeyong turned towards the sound of his name spoken in Yuta’s voice. There he was, him, _the_ boy, the only one. Waving a hand over his head. There was a bronze smudge across his cheek. He looked radiant as usual. It occurred to Taeyong how lucky he was to know him. To see his face every day. Lucky, lucky, lucky.

They walked to the store and picked up handsoap and toothpaste while Yuta told him about the makeup look inspired by Princess Mononoke that he’d worked on this week. Taeyong couldn’t wait to get home and write out his letter. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? He could get all his thoughts down on the paper, he’d be able to do this one thing, and not worry about messing up or forgetting something he needed to say or not getting his point across right. He wouldn’t have to watch a bit of his heart shrivel up and die of embarrassment as Yuta tried to hold back laughter, or worse, gave him a sorry look. This way Yuta would know that Taeyong didn’t expect anything from him, didn’t need anything from him, only for things to stay the way they were. The pressure was off. And Yuta would finally know how he _felt_.

Taeyong breathed in the cold air and it felt clear as the view from the top of a mountain. Yuta would know how he felt. Yuta would know he loved him. Suddenly the corners of his eyes were stinging and he raised a hand to wipe away the wetness collecting there. This would be fine. This would be good. It was a good plan.


	7. the writer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the writer / ellie goulding

Of course, even the best-laid plans go awry.

Taeyong quickly finished the letter that night, but rewrote it three times before he was satisfied. Reading it over at midnight, his head simultaneously buzzed and was calm. He doodled a flower in the corner, folded the piece of paper neatly into thirds, and wrote the date and Yuta’s name on the front. Then he sealed it with a red Moomin sticker. That night he got a whole 7 hours of sleep and didn’t wake up once, and the next morning he woke and left the house early, placing the letter on the kitchen table at Yuta’s usual breakfast spot. Walking out of the building into the white morning, he felt quite proud of himself, and relieved, and also a little trembly, like the moment right after you tear off a Band-Aid.

The lightened feeling quickly curdled to viscous dread when Taeyong didn’t hear from Yuta around his breakfast time, or by lunchtime, or in the afternoon either. If Jeno, Jaemin and Jisung noticed how stressed he was at their weekly practice session after class that day, they didn’t bring it up, but Jeno did slap a hand on Taeyong’s shoulder and tell him to “take it easy today.” Taeyong didn’t give a second thought to _taking it easy today_. Why hadn’t Yuta said anything about the letter? What if he didn’t like it? What if he thought it was stupid? Maybe he was trying to decide what to say before he texted Taeyong, or maybe he wanted to let him down gently in person. That must be it. He would want to talk in person. Taeyong had to get home so he could reemphasize, though he had explained briefly in the letter, that he didn’t need Yuta to want him back. That his love wasn’t conditional. Taeyong’s feet tapped semiconsciously waiting for the subway train to come.

Speedwalking home, Taeyong fairly hurtled past the trash cans next to their apartment building, but stopped in his tracks when a dot of red caught his eye in the recycling bin. He backpedaled. He peered into the bin. There it was. The Moomin sticker, his Moomin sticker, unbroken, still holding shut the letter, with “Yuta” written on the outside and the date.

Taeyong’s hand shot into the bin and snatched the letter out. He stared at it. As he’d thought, the letter was unopened. Yuta couldn’t possibly have read it. Then why on earth—? He dug his phone out of his pocket and brought up Yuta’s chat, fingertips throbbing in the cold.

_YUTA WHAT DID YOU THROW AWAY???????_

The reply came in within seconds. _i didn’t throw anything away?? i RECYCLED_

Taeyong stared at his phone. Then he shook it as if he were shaking Yuta’s shoulders. _RECYCLED WHAT?_

_a bunch of stuff, did i toss smth important? i’m sorry baby,_ read the reply, punctuated with a pair of sobbing emojis. _everything’s still in the bin downstairs if u need it, the guys don’t come to get it till sunday_

Taeyong let out a breath. Yuta hadn’t seen the letter. Taeyong put a hand on the edge of the recycling bin to steady himself. _WHY DID YOU RECYCLE IT WITHOUT CHECKING WHAT IT WAS_ , he texted.

_idk i was doing some cleaning in the kitchen and thinking about the sea turtles and i got on a recycling rampage. fyi u threw a plastic water bottle out in the trash the other day. hope ur ashamed_

Taeyong typed, _okay sorry about the water bottle but yuta did you not think to read through the papers to see what they were??_

Yuta sent a single question mark, and then a second later, _read it? no why would i read ur papers that’s like invasion of privacy lol honestly i didn’t notice anything special tho_

Taeyong squinted at his screen, wondering how Yuta hadn’t seen his own name written out on the front of the letter, until it occurred to him that maybe Yuta’s default was to scan for his name in Japanese and that his brain wouldn’t notice it written in Korean unless he was looking for it. Or maybe he’d been so distraught about the sea turtles that he’d just swept everything in sight into the bin.

He tucked the letter into his pocket and aimed for the door of the apartment building. Yuta texted him again. _why what are u looking for?_

_just something i was working on but i found it n rescued it_ , Taeyong sent back.

Taeyong carefully, carefully painted over Yuta’s name in Korean with whiteout, and rewrote it in Japanese in permanent marker. Mark was in hysterics hearing about the mishap that night, and Taeyong could just imagine him and Lucas howling over it in their dorm room.

By the time Taeyong managed to work up the courage to try again, the weekend had passed. This time he didn’t have a class to teach until late morning, so he snuck into Yuta’s room after Yuta had left for school and placed the letter on his pillow, weighted down by a box of strawberry Pocky sticks taped to the back so he could rest assured that the letter wouldn’t blow off the pillow or something stupid. Yuta was supposed to get home before him today, so when Yuta found the letter, Taeyong was due to be out of the house.

Thus it was distinctly concerning that there was still no call or text from Yuta when Taeyong’s last class of the evening let out. He arrived at home with his heart quivering like jelly, only to find the apartment empty, except for Max, who was licking himself atop the refrigerator. Max gave Taeyong a sneer and then returned to grooming.

“Have you seen Yuta, kid?” Taeyong asked, and poured Max’s food into a bowl. Max slithered down from the refrigerator and planted his face in the bowl.

When Taeyong texted Yuta _where you at hoe_ , Yuta replied that he was almost home. A minute later Taeyong heard the front door open.

“Hey,” Yuta called.

Taeyong froze, not having fully processed the fact that Yuta would now see the letter while they were both in the apartment. “Hey.”

“I was just at Sicheng and Taeil’s.” Yuta’s voice carried down the hall. “I was giving back that book Taeil lent me. They were cooking fried rice and gave me some.” Taeyong could hear him kicking off his shoes and tossing them into the closet.

“Oh, okay,” said Taeyong and cleared his throat.

“They sent home the leftovers for you. Did you eat?”

Yuta’s voice was moving down the hall to his bedroom. Taeyong held his breath, staring at his white knuckles gripping the counter.

“Taeyong?” came Yuta’s voice several seconds later, fainter from inside his room.

“Uh…yeah?” Taeyong’s voice broke. “Yeah?” he said again, louder.

“Come here a second,” said Yuta.

Taeyong counted the paces from the kitchen to Yuta’s room. There were seven. He turned into the bedroom.

“Looks like Max had a bite to eat,” Yuta said. He was studying a shred of paper in his hand. Taeyong, all the air leaving his lungs, looked over Yuta’s bed, which was strewn with scraps of paper, chunks of ravaged cardboard and some barely recognizable crumbs of Pocky.

“Know what this is? Is it part of a song you were working on?” Yuta held out the piece of paper he was looking at.

Taeyong took it and made an “euck” noise. The scrap was sticky with cat spit. The edge read, “ _took me a while but I finall_ ”

“No idea,” squeaked Taeyong and lunged to gather the rest of the scraps littering Yuta’s bed, grabbing at them with both fists.

“It’s your handwriting though, isn’t it?” said Yuta.

He reached over Taeyong’s arm for a scrap. Taeyong shifted his shoulders and boxed him out.

“No. I mean, yeah, maybe, but I don’t know what it is. He must have gotten ahold of something from the trash.”

“The trash?” A look of betrayal came over Yuta’s face. “Hello? RECYCLING?”

Taeyong gasped in frustration and said, “I don’t know, Max has the same access to our recycling bin as he does to the trash can.”

Yuta frowned at him with his arms folded and his hip popped.

Taeyong groaned. “Yuta, I recycle my shit, I really do, seriously! Besides, I don’t even—I don’t even remember what this is. Maybe he ripped it out of my notebook or something.”

“Fucking weirdo,” said Yuta and reached to brush Pocky crumbs off the bed into his hand. “What is this? Pocky? Where did he get Pocky from? I didn’t even know we had Pocky in the house.”

Taeyong grunted.

“Like, why would he physically carry multiple items to my bed just to destroy them? What’s his deal, what was he plotting?”

“Ritual sacrifice. He cast a spell on your bed. It’s obviously witchcraft,” said Taeyong.

Yuta barked a laugh. “God, Hyuck was right when he said Max is a demon. We should have listened to him. Now I can’t sleep in this bed ever again or I’ll be, like, cursed for life.”

“Well, I’ll…throw this shit out,” Taeyong said. “I mean, recycle it!” he added over his shoulder when Yuta opened his mouth.

When Mark heard that Max had eaten Taeyong’s love letter to Yuta, he laughed even harder than he had when it had gotten recycled, and then felt bad for laughing and promised to visit Taeyong at work soon. Taeyong, for his part, was just about fried at this point.

“I just feel as if the universe is, like, trying to let me know that this is a bad idea,” Taeyong told Mark several days later in the lobby of the dance studio in between classes.

Mark looked up from his phone. “This? What this?”

Taeyong shrugged and said, “I don’t know, the letter, this, everything.”

“So you’re just gonna give up? Already?” Mark’s eyes dropped back down to his phone and he scrolled idly. His interest in Taeyong’s agonizing inner struggle had waned significantly since the beginning of February. The morning texts asking if Taeyong had told Yuta now came sporadically at best. Taeyong couldn’t blame him. He was getting tired of himself too.

“No, no,” he said, dropping into a split on the floor next to the bench Mark was sitting on. He leaned to his left and let his forehead rest on his shin. “At this point? No. I’m not going to let the universe sabotage me. I’m not going to let the universe tell me no. I’m going to deliver this letter if it kills me.”

“Bold words,” said Mark without looking up from his phone, “considering that you still haven’t delivered it.”

“I will, okay? I’m just working back up to it,” said Taeyong, and folded his body along the line of his right leg.

“Working back up to it,” said Mark.

“Listen, a part of your heart dies when you see the love of your life holding in his hands the destroyed remains of the love letter you wrote to him that was eaten by the son you share, okay? Fucks you up.” At the look on Mark’s face Taeyong said, “I’m serious! It was traumatizing! Not to mention the fact that I have to rewrite the whole letter now, and it was soulrending enough the first time, and besides, Yuta’s busy, _I’m_ busy, I can’t write this _fucking_ song no matter how hard I work on it, there’s so much happening lately and time is going too fast…”

They heard the door open at the other end of the lobby. Taeyong cut himself off and arranged his face into a calm, welcoming expression. A student came in through the door, smiling a little shyly in Taeyong and Mark’s direction.

“Hi, Hyunjin,” said Taeyong and waved.

She waved back and inclined her head before going to the locker room.

“Yo,” said Mark, “the ease with which you just went from stressed to best…”

“What?”

“You slapped on a smile without even thinking. Like it was automatic. Doesn’t seem healthy.”

Taeyong ran his fingers through his hair. “What do you want me to do? I’m a teacher, I have to show up for my kids. Besides, that studio is the one place I can forget everything and just be…just _be_.”

“Okay, here—here’s what I can’t understand,” Mark said, and leaned forward on his knees. “Why you don’t just do it. When it’s making you this stressed out. Like, what’s the worst thing he can say? ‘Thanks but no thanks’? You know? I don’t see why you don’t just get it over with.”

“It…ah.” It bothered Taeyong, too, how irrational this was, him putting off the confession longer and longer so its shadow only loomed larger and darker in his mind. He usually made his decisions based strictly on logic. When he looked at Yuta, though, when he heard his name, when he heard his voice, logic went out the window. “It’s weird, this…love thing,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “It does things to you.”

Another few students came in through the front door and Taeyong aimed bright greetings their way. They giggled.

“When does your next class start?” Mark said.

Taeyong punched the home button on his phone. It was 1:34. “Eleven minutes,” he said.

“Can I stay and watch?” asked Mark.

Taeyong drew his legs back to center. “You can stay and take the class,” he said with a grin.

Mark studied his thumbnail. “Ehh. I haven’t danced in like three years.”

“They have this newish rule now where there are no casual observers allowed,” Taeyong lied, “so take the class or bounce.”

Some more kids came into the lobby, sunlight streaming over their heads before the door fell shut. The sun must have come out outside. A few students hailed Taeyong as “Godyong,” and Taeyong waved them off. Mark raised his eyebrows.

“They have this weird nickname,” Taeyong said in explanation.

“Nickname?” Mark watched the gaggle of kids disappear down the hallway to the locker rooms. “That’s some kinda idol worship, man.”

“They only do it because they know I don’t like it.”

“My kind of people,” said Mark with a nod of approval.

“Are you staying for class or not?” asked Taeyong.

Mark looked around, drummed his fingers on the table and said, “I mean, I wore workout pants today, so, sure, I guess. Yeah.”

Taeyong beamed and said, “Oh my god. Cute. Let me get a picture of you in the studio for our parents. Smile. Come on, just smile. Yay! Mom’s going to think this is so cute...”

Mark didn’t know any of the choreography that Taeyong and the students had been preparing for the spring show, but he was a fast learner, enough to keep up with the class. At some point he ended up under Jeno’s wing, receiving extra coaching in the back corner without having asked for it, and by the end he knew the routine as well as any of them did.

“Thanks for all your hard work today, everybody,” Taeyong said as class came to a close. “And let’s have a big round of applause for my little brother, who came back to the academy after four years for a sample class today and did a great job!”

Mark restrained an eye roll and smiled, kicking at the ground, when the class cheered. Jeno and Heejin reached to pat his shoulders.

“Have a great day, guys. Jisung, Jeno, Jaemin, take five minutes.”

Mark crossed to the front of the room and he bent to pick up his water bottle. Taeyong asked, “What’d you think?”

Mark was still breathing heavily and his hair was stuck to his forehead a little, but he was grinning. He nodded, one hand on his hip. “Shit, it was pretty fun. I forgot how fun it was. Also. I didn’t know you were such a good teacher?”

Taeyong smiled at his hands. “Really?”

Mark drank from his water bottle and said, “You’re, like, really good. You’re good at pacing the class according to how much time they need to pick up the moves, I think. And they frickin’ love you.”

As if to prove his point, a chorus of “Bye, Godyong!” arose from the doorway as a few boys and girls shouted and then quickly ducked outside before they could get scolded.

“They’re good kids,” said Taeyong, and looked up at Jeno who was approaching with Jaemin in tow.

“So you’re Taeyong’s brother _?_ ” Jeno said, dropping Jaemin’s wrist so he could point at Mark. “I didn’t even realize. I thought you were just a new kid or something.”

“It’s cool, man. Y’all are great dancers,” said Mark.

“Thanks, you too,” said Jaemin.

“Markie, these are the guys I keep for an extra session on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Taeyong said, and pointed at each of the boys. “Jeno, Jaemin and…where’s Jisung? Jisung! C’mere.”

Jisung jogged to the front as Mark bro-hugged Jeno and Jaemin. “’Sup, dude,” Mark said and gave Jisung a hug as well.

“Listen, so I was thinking,” Jeno said, hands gesturing, “we have a little unit, right? And it needs a name, right? So what about like… _Triple J_.”

“Triple…” Jisung said slowly.

“Yo, that’s super dope,” said Mark.

“Right? Thanks!” Jeno turned to Jaemin and Jisung, who were looking at him blankly, and said, “So like, ‘triple’ is the English word for, like, three…”

“You want to stay a little longer?” Taeyong asked Mark as Jeno animatedly explained his idea to Jaemin and Jisung. “You can come back to me and Yuta’s house to study if you want. I’ll make you kimbap.”

Mark pushed his hair back from his forehead. “Seriously? You’ll make me kimbap?”

“Yeah, I said I would.”

“Okay. Can we have radish salad too like your mom makes?”

Taeyong frowned. “Well we don’t have any radishes at home, but we have kimchi—”

“I reeeaally want radish salad,” Mark said.

“And I reeeaally don’t have any radishes,” said Taeyong.

Mark waved a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll get one. I was gonna buy cereal later anyways. When do you get done?”

“I’ll be here with these guys for at least another twenty minutes. If you want it the way Mom makes it, then get gochugaru peppers too,” Taeyong said.

“Okay,” said Mark and shrugged on his coat. He waved at the boys, saying, “Be back in a few,” and left the studio through the door to the lobby, leaving it standing open.

Jeno and Jaemin enthusiastically conveyed their choice of unit name to Taeyong while Jisung nodded along excitedly. Taeyong told them, “You guys are going to have to decide what kind of outfits you want to wear for the performance at the show,” which set off another round of chatter which Taeyong had to tamp down before they could get any work done.

They’d been practicing for about fifteen minutes when Taeyong paused the music to talk to the boys. He began to speak, but stopped when he heard an unfamiliar voice in the lobby.

“…I think so. I mean it’s clearly a dance studio.” The voice was accented.

Another voice spoke, too distant to be intelligible.

“Hey!” said Jeno suddenly.

Taeyong glanced at Jeno, and then a second later, a head peeked sideways through the door to the studio. It was a kid around Jeno and Jaemin’s age. A grin broke over his face.

“Renjun!” said Jaemin and Jeno simultaneously.

The face disappeared from the doorway and called, “Come here, I found them,” and then the boy stepped into the studio, stopping at the entrance. Jeno ran to him and wrapped him up in a hug.

“Our friends are here, is it okay if they watch for the last few minutes?” Jaemin asked Taeyong, and ran to the doorway when Taeyong gave a nod.

“You mind if we have a couple spectators, Jisung?” Taeyong said.

Jisung, who was sipping from his water bottle, shook his head. “No, I don’t—”

“FLOWER BOY?” shrieked a voice Taeyong knew from the doorway, and Jisung fell silent.

Taeyong turned.

“ _Hyuck?_ ” he said.

Donghyuck, escaping from Jeno’s bear hug, ran at Taeyong and shouted, “YOU’RE NOMIN’S DANCE TEACHER?”

“Who’s Nomin?” said Taeyong.

“You know him?” said Jaemin as Hyuck tackled Taeyong and slammed him into the wall.

“I’m confused,” said Jeno.

“Hyuck, get off. Hyuck—”

“I knew you were a dance teacher,” Hyuck was saying, “but I didn’t know you were _that_ dance teacher!”

Arms reached down to yank Hyuck off of Taeyong. The boy he didn’t know, Renjun, dragged Hyuck back while Jeno took Taeyong’s hand and pulled up him.

“ _That_ dance teacher? What does—You know Jeno and Jaemin?” said Taeyong and brushed himself off.

“Yeah, they’re my friends from high school! They’ve been telling us how cool and hot their dance teacher is for, like, ever. And they’ve been debating about whether they can—wait.” Hyuck cupped his hands around Taeyong’s ear and whispered, “Do you care if I tell them you’re gay? Because we’re all gay here, so…”

“Oh, no, sure, go ahead,” said Taeyong while the others squinted at them.

Hyuck whirled around and said, “Good news, guys, he’s gay as confetti, so you can call him Gay Jesus after all!”

“Gay Jesus?” said Jisung with an uncharacteristically loud cackle.

“Jeno always refers to their dance teacher as Gay Jesus, right, and Jaemin said he couldn’t, because they didn’t know for sure if you were gay,” Hyuck said. “But now that’s settled.”

Taeyong blinked. Jeno cleared his throat and Jaemin looked at the ground, cringing visibly.

“Fuck’s sake, Hyuck, shut up,” said Renjun.

“Well, yeah, I’m gay, but please don’t call me Gay Jesus. Even Godyong’s better than Gay Jesus,” said Taeyong.

“Is that permission to call you Godyong I hear?” said Jeno, brightening. Jaemin covered his face with his hands. Jisung had sat down on the floor to stretch and was going through his phone.

“This is our friend Renjun by the way,” said Hyuck with a wave, “he’s visiting from China. He went to our high school for three years.”

“Hang on, how do you know Taeyong, though?” asked Jeno.

“Oh my god you won’t believe,” gasped Hyuck. “ _He’s_ that guy’s _brother!_ He—”

“Wait,” said Jeno.

“You know my friend from beauty school, Yuta, Taeyong’s the best friend with the beautiful brother—”

Taeyong choked on a laugh. All four of them were suddenly talking at once. “Taeyong is—Mark is the—” Jaemin said.

“Wait, who, who? What beautiful brother? I haven’t heard anything about this!” Renjun said.

“Yes you have! I KNOW I told you about him. Remember, Mark?”

“Nuh-uh! I’ve never heard of a Mark!” said Renjun.

Hyuck made a swooning noise, a sort of “Ah!”, and said, “Renjun, he’s so GORGE. If you think Taeyong’s cute, holy garbanzos, wait till you see his brother. The first time I saw him, my heart pretty much stopped.”

“Hyuckie,” Jaemin said. Hyuck gave no sign of hearing him. “Like, if you could kill people by being good-looking, we’d all be dead the second Mark walked in the room. It’s _sickening_. And the most ridiculous part is that he has a good personality too, he’s _nice_ , he’s into _music_ , he’s _funny_ , it only makes him more attractive than he already is, not to mention the fact that he smells like fuckin’, I don’t know, unicorn farts…”

Jeno, whom Taeyong had just noticed trying to catch Hyuck’s attention with a wide-eyed glare, wound up and kicked him hard in the shin. “Fucking ow!” said Hyuck, and then saw the looks on Jaemin and Jeno’s faces. He frowned, and then he and Taeyong turned around to look behind them.

Mark was standing in the doorway, a grocery bag in either hand, face the deep vermilion of a fierce summer sunburn.

Hyuck jerked his head back comically, like he’d gotten an electric shock. His hands covered his mouth.

There were a few seconds of silence. Then Hyuck let out an imitation of a laugh. “Hahhhh,” he said. “Yeah, I…” He balled his hands up into fists, planted them on his hips, and stood canted forward like a teacher telling his students that today’s class would be fun. “I’m done now. I’ll be going now. Goodbye.”

“What…?” said Renjun.

Hyuck turned to Taeyong, who was biting his knuckles in an attempt to stifle laughter, and said, “Taeyong? Where is the door?”

Taeyong pointed to where Mark was standing. Donghyuck stared steadily into Taeyong’s face. “I meant the other door?”

“Hey, Hyuck,” said Mark, finally setting the groceries down and drawing closer to the front of the room. He twisted his gloves off his hands.

“Oh hi Mark!” Hyuck said, his voice pitched two octaves higher than usual.

“Oh, shit,” said Renjun.

Jaemin hid his laughter in Jeno’s shoulder. Mark stopped next to Taeyong, and Hyuck stared at Mark’s shoes.

“You’re friends with Jeno and Jaemin?” Mark asked.

“Yep,” Hyuck yelped.

“Small world!” said Mark.

Hyuck gave a manic laugh.

Mark reached a hand behind his head to scratch his neck. “Do uh…do unicorn farts smell good, or bad…?”

Hyuck wasn’t even blinking. He seemed to expect that if he concentrated hard enough, he’d be able to will himself to disappear. When a second passed and he was still there, he looked around, made another jittery laugh and said, “Good! You know, because unicorns are magic, and…um.”

“Oh! Phew,” said Mark.

Hyuck cleared his throat. “How long, um.”

“Was I standing back there?” Mark finished.

Hyuck nodded.

Mark shrugged. “A minute or two…”

“S-sorry,” Hyuck said, and Mark shook his head.

“No, no worries. It’s, uh, crazy that you think I’m funny,” he said, “because you’re one of the funniest people I’ve ever met.”

“Hah! Thanks,” said Hyuck.

“And, um…oneofthecutestpeopleI’veevermet, and if you want, uh…”

Hyuck looked at Mark as if he’d just said he was from Pluto. Mark stammered. “—you, you know, we could…we…Do you drink coffee?”

Hyuck nodded quickly.

“Oh, yeah, he drinks coffee. Gallons of it! Loves the stuff,” Jeno said. Renjun slapped a hand over his mouth.

Mark laughed and said, “Great, yeah. Umm…there’s this really good new place I know over by the university, if you want to go sometime…”

“Sure!” Hyuck squeaked.

Mark smiled. “Really? Cool.” He looked at the ground, still smiling, and Hyuck stared at him. Then Mark looked back up and said, “What about Friday?” and Hyuck glanced away quickly. “Yeah, Friday, Friday’s perfect, one hundred percent perfect.”

Mark nodded. “Cool, I’ll text you where the place is.”

“Great!” said Hyuck.

Mark and Hyuck both aimed their gazes at the ground for several seconds. Jaemin and Jeno made eye contact with each other, and a guffaw escaped Jaemin, then another.

“Shut up, Jaemin. _Jaemin_ ,” said Renjun.

“Uh, Taeyong? No offense, but,” Jisung said from his seated position against the wall, “can I go home if we’re not going to…”

Jeno and Jaemin were both at this point dissolving on the floor. Taeyong didn’t see any work getting done anytime soon. “No, yeah, sorry Jisung. Go ahead,” said Taeyong, and Jisung gratefully beelined for the door. “Have a good night,” Taeyong called after him.

Hyuck stared at Jeno and Jaemin like he wanted to end them. Renjun took hold of his elbow as if to restrain him from beating them up. Mark glanced at Taeyong, a glowing smile playing on his lips.

“ _Proud of you_ ,” Taeyong mouthed.

Mark’s smile did not falter as he mouthed back, “ _You next_.”


	8. alone together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alone together / fall out boy

Rewriting the love letter that Max had demolished proved more difficult that Taeyong anticipated. Eventually he realized that no matter how close he came to recreating the original letter word for word he wouldn’t be satisfied, because the original letter, he could suddenly see, was appallingly flawed—too mushy and flowery and long-winded, which Yuta would hate. He became grateful to Max for forcing him to revise that disaster. Of course now it was a matter of actually writing it _right_ , but it was easier said than done.

Before long, it was White Day. Taeyong showered Yuta with gifts all day in return for the flowers he’d gotten on Valentine’s Day, and Yuta, munching on the heart-shaped white truffle he’d just received from Taeyong, tried to guess the identity of Taeyong’s crush. He had moved on from Jaehyun to Taeil, theorizing that the reason Taeyong didn’t want anyone to know was that he didn’t want to make problems for Taeil and Sicheng. Taeyong told him, “I can’t believe the dumbassery I’m hearing from you right now.”

Yuta hugged the teddy bear Taeyong had just given him and said, “It’s not Johnny, is it? Is it Johnny? You do have a thing for his ass…”

Taeyong stood up, screamed, “EVERYONE has a thing for Johnny’s ass!” and walked out of the room.

Only minutes later, Taeyong’s phone lit up with an incoming call from Mark. Taeyong picked up and immediately had to distance the phone from his ear.

“HYUCK ASKED ME TO BE HIS DATE,” Mark was screaming in his ear. “HYUCK ASKED ME TO GO WITH HIM—”

“To what? To what? Mark, stop screa—”

“THE WEDDING, sorry, the wedding, you know, that wedding? The girl from Hyuck and Yuta’s class at beauty school? Hyuck said you were going too—”

“Kang Seulgi’s wedding!” Taeyong said.

“Yes! He just ASKED ME TO GO WITH HIM.”

“Mark, you’re screaming in my ear.”

“I’m sorry. Sorry.”

It was Sunday, and Mark and Hyuck had taken the cable car up Mount Namsan earlier that day. It had been a few weeks since their first coffee date, but it seemed to Taeyong as if they had become inseparable overnight, suddenly always appearing in each other’s Instagram stories and Snapchats. They regularly showed up together at Yuta and Taeyong’s to do homework, which Yuta loved because they usually brought food with them. Taeyong suspected that the two of them wanted to be around each other 24/7 but were too embarrassed to be alone together all the time yet, so Taeyong and Yuta’s presences were acting as a temporary buffer.

“How did that boy ask you to the wedding when he can barely look you in the eye and talk to you at the same time,” Taeyong said, rubbing his eyes.

Mark made an incoherent noise that made the line crackle. “What does that even,” he said, and there was more indignant mumbling.

“Sorry. I’m in a bad mood. I was kidding,” said Taeyong, throwing himself back on his bed.

“A bad mood? Why?”

“Because Yuta’s fucking dense,” Taeyong whispered.

“Uh huh, and you’re so terrific at communicating.”

“Damn, thanks.”

“What happened?”

“Same as usual,” Taeyong said with his hand cupped around his mouth, glancing towards the bedroom door to make sure it was shut tightly. “I did a bunch of romantic stuff for him for White Day and he’s all like, _your crush is Taeil isn’t it, bleh mleh_.”

“Listen, I’d love to say I feel bad for you but I don’t. If you just told him—”

“Right, yeah. Anyway how was Mount Namsan? Where are you now?”

“I’m walking home, I’m almost at the dorm. And first of all, Hyuck isn’t the nervous wreck you’re making him out to be, he’s, he’s _comfortable_ with me, I—”

“Mark, I was just teasing, oh my god. Of course he’s comfortable with you. He adores you.”

“Yes? Really?”

Taeyong laughed. “Yes. I can personally confirm. Did you kiss him yet?”

“No, but—I—that’s none of your business. But I held his hand at the top of the mountain and, and, actually Taeyong, I think he’s the cutest person I’ve ever met. Cuter than, like, girls, like, not just girls in general, _all_ girls. Everything he does is like, AHH. I don’t know. There’s something different about him.” Mark sounded out of breath, like he was climbing the steps at his dorm.

“Gay,” said Taeyong.

“I think maybe?”

Taeyong sat up. “Oh my god?”

“Maybe,” Mark said again, more quietly. 

Taeyong gripped the phone in his opposite hand. “So, the pansexual thing is out the window? Or is that not what you meant?”

Mark made an “ehh” sound. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe I’m just Donghyucksexual. Ahhh. That made more sense in my head. Forget I said that.”

“Well, I mean, I know I say this every time, but you don’t have to choose a label. Just wait and see what feels best.”

“I know, I know.”

Taeyong listened to Mark gush about the date for at least another half hour. When he came out to the kitchen later for water, Yuta said from the couch, “Were you talking to Mark?”

Taeyong turned around, a glass in his hand. “Were you talking to Donghyuck?”

Yuta grinned and raised his phone, where Taeyong could see an incoming text so long it was cut off by the end of the screen. “Let’s compare versions,” he said.

“You’re evil,” said Taeyong and ran water into his glass.

“That’s not very nice,” said Yuta.

Taeyong took a long drink, looking at Yuta. He was pouting at his phone, head nestled against the armrest of the couch. Taeyong wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, or if Yuta’s energy had been a little low recently. Taeyong suddenly felt the stabbing fear that he’d been too caught up in his own head to notice how Yuta was doing.

“When I said evil,” he said, and sat down in front of the couch, “I meant evil genius. Obviously.”

Yuta reached out and ruffled Taeyong’s hair.

“So what did Hyuck say about the date?” Taeyong said.

Taeyong tried to keep a closer eye on Yuta over the next several days. Yuta was busy with projects for school, that much was clear. But Taeyong couldn’t pin down whether something was bothering him until a few days later, when he was writing on the couch and noticed Yuta, who had been on the phone in his room a few minutes ago, standing in the middle of the kitchen with a lost look on his face.

Taeyong’s stomach tightened to see him, and he removed an earphone. “Yuta?”

“Huh?” Yuta spun around. He was biting his lip.

“What’s wrong?” said Taeyong.

Yuta shrugged. “I’m just. Thinking.”

“Mm?” Taeyong beckoned with one hand, closing his notebook with the other. “Thinking about what?”

Yuta crept to the couch and sat down next to Taeyong. “About like…maybe…” For a moment his eyes strayed to the other side of the room, and then he looked back at Taeyong and folded his hands in his lap. “Maybe I shouldn’t become a makeup artist.”

“What?” Taeyong was stunned. “Why?”

Yuta shrugged again, looking down and twisting his hands. The gesture made it click. “Your _parents_ ,” Taeyong said with no little disgust.

Yuta made a noise. “I don’t know. My dad asked how beauty school was going, so I thought maybe it would be a safe subject or whatever, like, just to make small talk. And I started telling them about the mermaid look I’ve been working on, the one I tried on the left side of your face on Wednesday…” Yuta rolled his eyes. “You know, my mom got all like, ‘ _You always got such good grades through high school and college, I just can’t believe you would waste a brain like that_ ,’ and blah blah…”

Taeyong exhaled through his nose. “Who cares what she thinks? Just because you’re not developing new quantum physics theories or, or, discovering the cure for cancer doesn’t mean what you’re doing is useless.”

Yuta was silent. Taeyong said, “Do you not…want to anymore?

“Well of course I _want_ to,” Yuta said, “but what if doing whatever I _want_ isn’t going to be, like, fulfilling? What if I need to be… _‘intellectually challenged’_ …” He made air quotes with his fingers. Taeyong thought those sounded like his parent’s words.

“Yuta, becoming a makeup artist is your dream,” Taeyong said in dismay.

“Yeah, but maybe I should do…more. Something that would make you proud I’m your friend, something that would make _them_ proud, I could get into research or…”

Taeyong could hardly believe he’d just said that. “Jesus, Yuta, I’m proud to know you no matter what you—”

“I’m serious! I’ve always thought biology was cool, I could go back to school to become a doctor…”

“You’d hate being a doctor,” Taeyong said.

“I mean, I know, but maybe I should try. Or maybe I should become a professional translator—or a politician—”

That was enough to make Taeyong laugh out loud. “A politician? _You?_ ”

“I know, I _know_ ,” Yuta said, and to both their surprise, a tear dropped down his cheek. He blinked, raised a hand to wipe it off, and looked at his damp palm. A second later his face distorted and he began to sob.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Taeyong whispered, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay…” Yuta said, tears rolling down his cheeks, eyes cast down to his lap, “I knew…what you meant…”

Taeyong placed a hand on Yuta’s quaking shoulder and the touch was all it took for Yuta to fold into him, face pressing into the hollow of Taeyong’s shoulder.

“Of course you could be a politician if you wanted,” Taeyong said, tightening his arms around Yuta, “you could do anything. We all know you’re smart enough. I guess your mom’s right about that. And you’re confident, and determined, and you have this—magnetic—fuck, you’re _Yuta_ , you draw people to you! You make people want to listen. You could be a politician or a doctor or a translator or a teacher or a, fuckin’, I don’t know, you could conduct an orchestra. You could be an astronaut. I was just surprised,” he said. Yuta was quiet in his arms now. He giggled, hoping that the sound would cheer Yuta up. “Surprised at the thought of you… _politicking_ …like, imagine you sweet-talking, sucking up to people, saying things you don’t mean…”

As Taeyong had hoped, Yuta let out a breathy chuckle. “Yeah, I guess I would be kind of shit at that.”

“Shaking hands, kissing old ladies’ cheeks,” Taeyong went on. Yuta laughed again, a real laugh this time. The sound made the knot in Taeyong’s stomach ease.

“The old ladies would love me,” Yuta sniffed.

“But you _love_ cosmetology,” Taeyong said. He raised a hand to stroke Yuta’s hair, but that felt a little too intimate, even for them, so he settled his hand on the crown of Yuta’s head. Yuta fit perfectly in his arms. Like they were the only two jigsaw pieces in a perfect puzzle. “You’ve wanted to do this all your life. You’ve fought your parents and people’s judgments every step of the way. Because it’s art, and art _is_ intellectually challenging, by the way, and it requires skill, and creativity, and imagination…and baby, you’re so, so talented, and you make me so proud every time I see what you can do. But who cares what I think? You love it. That’s the only important thing.”

Yuta was still for a moment. Taeyong bent his head down to look at him, and saw that he was smiling.

“Okay?” said Taeyong.

“Yeah…” Yuta said. His eyes flickered up to Taeyong and he added, “You never called me ‘baby’ before.”

Taeyong tried to will the flush not to rise in his cheeks. He hadn’t noticed saying it. “ _You_ tell me I’m your baby all the time,” he said defensively.

“Because you are,” Yuta said, and sat up to put his hands on either of Taeyong’s cheeks and squeeze them mercilessly. “My sweet baby. Sweet, wise, thoughtful, precious little baby.” He pushed Taeyong’s lips together so they pouted out like a fish’s, and laughed wholeheartedly.

“Ugh, get off,” murmured Taeyong, catching Yuta’s wrists in his hands and lowering them to his lap. Yuta let him, gazing at Taeyong with an adoring grin. His eyes were still red, but otherwise he looked as if he hadn’t shed a tear in his life. He was beautiful. He was absolutely beautiful.

“My Taeyongie,” he said, and his face tilted closer, and Taeyong just about felt himself flatline, but Yuta was only leaning in to stamp a kiss onto his nose. Then he withdrew, and Taeyong had to focus on filling his lungs with air. “You always make me feel better,” Yuta was saying. “Just by… _existing_. God. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Taeyong’s head buzzed. The split second thinking that Yuta was about to kiss him had made his whole body tingle like he was full of champagne bubbles.

“I wish my parents thought about it like you do,” Yuta said.

Taeyong swallowed. “Why is this all coming up now? I mean, thinking about stopping? Your parents have said meaner things to you before…”

Yuta sat forward on the couch, just out of Taeyong’s reach. Taeyong’s hands trailed down his back.

“I guess I’ve just been thinking a lot lately,” Yuta said slowly, “about, like, life and everything…how to be happy…”

Yuta spoke softly but the words felt sharp, causing Taeyong physical pain. “You’re unhappy?”

Yuta shook his head. “No, I mean, no. Not _un_ -happy. Like, I’m happy with—I don’t know, it just seems like there’s something…missing, sometimes? Like I…like…”

It was rare that Yuta struggled to find words. In moments like these when they were younger, especially when Yuta’s Korean wasn’t quite as fluent, Taeyong used to try to guess what he was about to say, to supply the words he was looking for. Once, in high school, Taeyong was suggesting words during a pause and Yuta practically shouted, “Let me think!” So Taeyong waited. He still felt the urge to fill in Yuta’s blanks, but he knew that Yuta wouldn’t want him to.

“Like there’s some part of myself I still haven’t found, or, or—tapped into,” Yuta finished finally, satisfaction clear in his voice as he landed on the last few words.

Taeyong said, “What do you mean?”

There was a short silence and then Yuta said, “I don’t know.”

_It’s me, it’s me, I’m that part of you_ , Taeyong’s brain was chanting, even though he knew it didn’t make any sense.

Taeyong cleared his throat, which turned into a nervous cough, and then said, “Do you ever think about getting a boyfriend?”

Yuta frowned and smiled at the same time. “I don’t think that…would help much...”

Taeyong nodded, feeling stupid. “Uh huh. Sure.”

Yuta cast a glance sideways at him.

“Why don’t you practice your mermaid look on me,” Taeyong said, even though he had to work on his song. He wanted to be Yuta’s, right now, somehow—to be there for him, do something for him, belong to him in any way and for any length of time.

Yuta looked at the notebook, wiping at one eye. A tiny little post-crying gasp escaped him. “But you’re writing,” he said.

Taeyong shook his head. “Nah.”

“I don’t…” said Yuta. He shrugged. “I don’t really want to do makeup right now. Can we do something else?”

“Like watch pre-2010 TVXQ music videos?” Taeyong said.

Yuta smiled.

In the spring of their first year of high school, eight or ten months after he and Taeyong had met, Yuta began to find strange little gifts in his locker—first a heap of half-crushed cherry blossom petals, clearly torn from the trees in the side lot, then a coupon for a free frozen yogurt, a photocard with U-Know from TVXQ on it, a little Rilakkuma drawing that someone seemed to have doodled in class, a sheet of heart stickers that said sappy things like “You are my destiny” in bubble letters. Taeyong was bewildered by the gifts, Yuta rather tickled, and Johnny endlessly amused. Jaehyun, an old family friend of Johnny’s who was still in middle school at the time, was their only friend who wasn’t very surprised—probably because he himself had multiple people falling all over him at any given point in time.

“It’s probably one of the people who sent you roses on Valentine’s Day,” Jaehyun said when they were discussing the mystery gift-sender’s potential identities over Korean pancakes after school one day. “How many were there? Five?”

“Six,” said Yuta.

“You’re annoying,” said Taeyong.

“As if you didn’t get twice as many.”

“No, I only got eight,” Taeyong argued, and Johnny groaned. “‘ _Only._ ’ You’re both annoying.”

“I—sorry,” said Taeyong.

“Who were the six girls who gave you roses?” Jaehyun asked. “We’ll go through all of them and use process of elimination.”

“Well…they weren’t…” Yuta said.

It was a cold day, and was supposed to rain later, but Yuta had forgotten his jacket at home. He had walked to the market in a T-shirt and jeans, while Jaehyun, Johnny and Taeyong complained and zipped their coats all the way up. Yuta skipped down the street happy-go-lucky as a bird, unperturbed by the cutting March winds. Now, in the warmly lit restaurant with his hot pancake half-eaten in front of him, he hugged his arms to his body.

Johnny was telling Jaehyun to get out a notebook. “Write these names down and we’ll make notes on each of them,” he said. Jaehyun nodded, obediently digging a notebook out of his backpack.

Taeyong reached to pick a scallion off the top of Yuta’s pancake. “They weren’t what?”

Yuta threaded his fingers through his hair at the back of his head. “All girls.”

Jaehyun’s eyes bugged clean out of his head and his pen dropped to the floor with a clatter. “You got roses from _boys?_ ” he said.

“Yeah,” said Yuta with a defensive glare.

“Yuta, which boys were they?” said Johnny.

Taeyong wanted to say, “You never told us you got roses from boys,” but wasn’t sure why it seemed so necessary that such a fact be revealed, so he didn’t speak.

“Choi Minki and Oh Sehun,” said Yuta, checking his phone even though it didn’t have any notifications.

“Whoa,” said Taeyong.

“Oh Sehun, like, the upperclassman who tweeted ‘I like boys’ in the fall?” said Jaehyun.

“Yeah, but he said later he sent me a rose because he wanted to be friends. How do you know who Oh Sehun is?” Yuta said.

“How does Oh Sehun know who _you_ are?” Jaehyun said.

“Well, it’s not Choi Minki, because he can’t draw for shit,” Johnny said. “So he couldn’t have drawn the Rilakkuma that Yuta got last week.” Johnny pointed at Jaehyun’s notebook and said, “Write that down.”

“ _Unless_ ,” said Yuta, “he got someone to draw it for him. Or someone drew it and gave it to him and he was just, like, getting rid of it.”

Jaehyun scribbled notes in his notebook furiously and Taeyong said, “I know his best friend Jonghyun, I can ask if he knows anything.”

“What about the girls?” said Johnny.

Taeyong put a palm flat in the middle of the table. “Unpopular opinion. Whoever’s sending the gifts isn’t one of the people who sent a rose on Valentine’s Day.”

Jaehyun’s scribbling paused and Johnny folded his arms. Yuta turned to him, hands tucked between his knees.

“Yeah, why?” said Jaehyun.

“Because all the gifts have been like super, super anonymous,” said Taeyong, “like the person _really_ doesn’t want us to figure out who they are, they haven’t even left a _note_ , we have no handwriting to go off of or anything. The people who sent the roses, like, their names were right there. Don’t you think Yuta would have gotten some kind of love letter by now if this person were planning on revealing their identity?”

Jaehyun put his chin in his hand and Johnny said, “Mmm…points made.”

“Okay, so, how do we figure it out then?” said Yuta.

Taeyong chewed on a chunk of Korean pancake. “We have clues.” He held up a finger. “Number one, it can’t be someone who knows you well, or they would have given you a Max photocard, not a Yunho one.”

Yuta put a hand over his heart. “Oh my god. That’s so true.”

“Number two, they can probably draw,” said Taeyong, “at least, well enough to draw a Rilakkuma bear.”

Jaehyun pointed the pen across the table at Taeyong and said, “That eliminates you,” said Taeyong raised his hand to threaten a smack.

“Yuta knows all the art kids though,” said Johnny. “That doesn’t really help us narrow it down.”

“I wasn’t done yet! There are more clues,” said Taeyong.

Yuta put his finger over his upper lip like a mustache and said in a nasally voice, “Private Investigator Lee, at your service.”

Taeyong stole another scallion from him and Yuta reached across to take a sip of Taeyong’s soda. Taeyong elbowed him out of his way. “Clue three is the free yogurt,” he said as Yuta elbowed him back hard in the ribs, and doled Yuta a punch in return. “Who the heck doesn’t keep a coupon for free yogurt?”

“Lactose intolerant people!” Jaehyun exclaimed, and scrawled the words “ _LACTOSE INTOLERANT”_ in the notebook.

“Well, I meant, just, people who don’t like yogurt,” said Taeyong, fighting off a rain of blows from Yuta, “but that too,” and all of a sudden Johnny, who had been pondering silently with his thumb over his lips, clapped his hands.

“I’ve got it! Nayoung.”

“Kim Nayoung?” said Yuta. He and Taeyong ceased their struggle.

Johnny ticked off his fingers as he said, “She does art, she doesn’t know anything about TVXQ, and she _always_ throws out the milk that comes with the cafeteria school lunches!”

Jaehyun tossed the notebook onto the table. “Cold, hard proof, that’s what you’ve got, Johnny. One-hundred-percent incriminating hot take. Looks like this case is closed.”

Johnny said, “Okay, then, Mr. Genius, what great ideas do you have?”

“I don’t even go to school with you guys! I don’t know anybody!”

“Anyway, I don’t think it’s Kim Nayoung. She only talks to me when she has to,” said Yuta.

Johnny said, “Who do you, like, _wish_ it were? We can start there.”

Yuta rolled his head around and said, “I meannn…I don’t knowww…”

“Aren’t there any girls at school you like?” Johnny said.

Yuta gave him a doubtful look and said, “No.”

“Not one?”

“Well who talks to you the most, then?” Jaehyun asked.

“Mmm…” Yuta’s eyes roamed around the table and settled on Taeyong.

“What about Choi Hyojung? Her locker is near yours,” said Johnny.

Taeyong said, “Yeah, and she’s so nice!”

Yuta shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess.”

Soon Johnny had to head to guitar lessons, Jaehyun’s mom was telling him to come home, and Yuta had work. Taeyong, as he often did, went with Yuta to the flower shop. The shop did well, but on weekdays it didn’t have many customers, and Yuta got lonely sometimes. So Taeyong sat behind the counter and they did homework together when Yuta wasn’t attending clients.

The shop had a very specific smell. It wasn’t just all the flowers’ scents comingling, but a singularly dominant smell that Taeyong was never able to identify. It wasn’t sweet, or even particularly fresh—just humid and green. But Taeyong thought it was one of the best smells in the world. That smell meant that he was passing into a little self-contained world, where the scenery didn’t change, where outsiders rarely intruded, a pocket of spacetime that belonged only to the two of them.

That day Yuta was sitting on the stool at the cash register and doodling the Luxe Snapdragon bouquet displayed across the room while Taeyong was doing calculus. Taeyong liked when they sat around and didn’t talk. He’d never had a friend that he could hang out with and not talk to at the same time.

Taeyong was on his last calculus problem when a young man walked through the door and into the shop. He stopped in the doorway with his feet planted squarely and looked at the front, appraising Yuta and Taeyong.

“How’s it going,” said Yuta.

The boy nodded and vanished among the flower-draped shelves. Taeyong hadn’t recognized him. He looked about their age, maybe a little older, but the universities weren’t nearby. He was probably from the high school two streets over.

Yuta’s face was bowed over his drawing. Taeyong bent his head to finish his calculus homework. Taeyong found the answer he’d gotten among the multiple choice responses and sighed in relief, circling it and turning to stuff the notebook into his backpack. As he looked up again, he saw the boy carrying a white and green bouquet to the register, the bottom of the plastic wrapping dripping water from where he’d pulled it out of the bucket.

“Is that all?” said Yuta as the boy laid the simple bouquet on the counter, leaning an elbow on the edge.

“Yep,” the boy said.

“Sure? People usually use the lilies of the valley and myrtle to complement a bigger flower. White roses would go great,” said Yuta.

The boy shook his head. Taeyong thought he was sort of good-looking, except when he pursed his lips together like that. It made him look impatient. “Nope. Just that.”

“Okay,” said Yuta. “It’s 24,500 won.”

The boy slapped a 50,000 won bill on the counter. Yuta popped out the cash register drawer and went to make change. The handsome boy glanced behind Yuta and made eye contact with Taeyong, who quickly averted his eyes.

Yuta dropped the change into the boy’s open palm and said, “Do you want an embossed notecard to attach with a message? They’re free.”

“No,” said the boy, reading Yuta’s nametag. “Is your name Yuta?”

Yuta said, “Huh? Yes.”

“These are for you,” said the boy, nodding at the flowers.

Yuta looked up. “Wh—Me?”

“Yeah,” said the boy, folding his change and putting it into his pocket.

Taeyong looked back and forth between them. Yuta’s face was flushed and bright with surprise.

The boy leaned both forearms on the counter and said, “A girl up the street gave me fifty thousand won to buy you lilies of the valley and told me I could keep the change if I did.”

The trace of a smile dropped from Yuta’s face but the surprise remained.

“A girl…?” he said.

“She wouldn’t tell me her name,” said the boy, “but she said to tell you that you have a secret admirer.”

“Ah,” said Yuta, nodding slowly.

The boy said, “She was pretty cute,” as if to reassure him. Yuta nodded again.

“Thanks. If she’s still out there, uh, tell her thanks.”

The boy shook his head. “Nah, she pretty much ran away as soon as she gave me the money.”

“Okay, well…thank you,” said Yuta again, looking a little at a loss.

“Sure.” The boy turned and walked out the door without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

Yuta picked up the bouquet and tilted his face into it.

“Whoa!” said Taeyong.

“That was weird,” said Yuta. He was still a little pink.

“Hey, he said she was cute. Maybe it is Choi Hyojung!”

“Maybe,” Yuta said.

“We should have asked him more questions about what she looked like,” said Taeyong. “And what she was wearing. Shit. We just missed a bunch of clues.”

Yuta just made a “darn” shape with his mouth, squishing his bottom lip to the side.

Taeyong got up and stood next to Yuta, holding out his hands. Yuta handed him the bouquet. The little bell-shaped lilies of the valley were white as sugar cubes.

“You know what I actually thought?” said Taeyong. “I thought at first that boy was buying you flowers, like, himself.”

Yuta said, “Yeah, me too.”

“Good thing they turned out to be from your admirer, right?” said Taeyong, laughing.

“Ehh…” said Yuta.

Taeyong stopped and looked at him.

Yuta avoided Taeyong’s eyes for a few seconds and then finally glanced up. “I mean, I kind of…it would have been nice…”

Taeyong leaned a little closer, as if he were having difficulty hearing Yuta, rather than having difficulty understanding him. “It would have been nice if the flowers were from that guy?”

“Mmmm,” Yuta mumbled, “yeah.”

Taeyong, genuinely confused, said, “Instead of from the girl who likes you?”

Yuta’s gaze was burning holes in his snapdragon drawing. “Yyyeah.”

“Why?”

Yuta shrugged and said, “Because I’m gay?”

Taeyong repeated, “You’re gay?”

“Uh huh,” said Yuta without looking up.

Taeyong opened and closed his mouth. He was taken aback, not so much by what Yuta had said as by the feeling that suddenly gripped him. He didn’t know what it was. It felt like surprise, but it was something else.

The bells over the door jingled and a customer walked in, a smiling old man, and both Taeyong and Yuta startled. “Hello,” Yuta said to the old man, and his voice cracked. He quickly looked back down at his drawing and put his head in his hand.

“You kids are young to be working a florists’,” said the old man, approaching the counter. “Know anything about stephanotis?”

“Oh, I don’t…” said Taeyong and stepped aside.

“I can help you,” Yuta said in a clearer voice, sitting up straight, and Taeyong suddenly realized with a stroke of absolute horror that he hadn’t said anything, anything at all, after Yuta had just _come out_ to him, he’d just stood there like a dummy.

The old man began to speak, but Taeyong interrupted him. “He definitely knows about stephanotis! He knows a lot about flowers. He’s very smart. Very very smart, and, just, a great person, like, all-around. He’s my best friend! And I love him no matter who he—no matter what he…He’s my best friend no matter what,” Taeyong finished, looking to Yuta, who was gazing up at him with that incredible smile that always made Taeyong feel so happy and warm to see.

They grinned at each other for a long second. Taeyong felt his face reddening but he didn’t care. The man put his hands on his hips and said, “Well, son, that’s very nice that he’s your best friend, but I still need help with my stephanotis.”

Yuta snapped to attention and said, “Of course! Yes. Are you looking for a whole plant or just a few stalks…?”

The old man launched into a story about his wife and her beloved jasmine plant that had died, and Yuta, who always got impatient with these types of things, stood up and began to steer him in the direction of the bouquet fillers. A good fifteen minutes later, after much vacillation and debate, the old man finally purchased a potted stephanotis plant and went on his way, waving over his shoulder as he pushed through the door into the cold rain.

Once he was gone, Yuta and Taeyong looked at each other. A giggle bubbled up out of Taeyong, and that made Yuta giggle too, and a few seconds later they were in fits. Taeyong threw his arms around Yuta and squeezed him tight. Yuta patted Taeyong’s back.

“I meant it,” Taeyong said when he stepped away. “Like, what you said, I don’t care. I mean, I care, about you, but like, it doesn’t matter. Well—it _matters_ —”

“I got you,” said Yuta. The side of his head rested in his hand and he was smiling so prettily, he looked like the most carefree creature in the world.

“Oh, okay. Good.” The strange surprised feeling had given way to happiness, a big, giddy happiness spreading throughout Taeyong’s body. It must be because Yuta had trusted him enough to tell him—it made Taeyong feel close to him. That was nice. “Thanks for telling me,” he added.

“Yeah,” said Yuta. “Thanks for, like, being cool.”

“Well, yeah, of course.”

They stood there smiling for a bit, and then Yuta said, “What about the best friend thing? Am I really your best friend?”

Taeyong clasped his hands. He’d been close with Johnny since elementary school, but Johnny and Jaehyun had grown up together, basically since they were babies. He always felt a little outside of their friendship, though they’d never treated him that way. But then Yuta had come along. “Well, yeah,” Taeyong said, “you…yeah.”

“Oh, good, because you’re my best friend too,” said Yuta, and Taeyong breathed out in relief.

“I’m so glad you moved to Seoul,” he said.

“You know, when my parents told me we were coming to Korea,” said Yuta, swiveling on his stool a little, “I was _so_ not for it. I really couldn’t imagine it. Now I can’t imagine if I never came.”

Taeyong made an “ew” noise and shook his head. He didn’t even want to think about it.

A week before Kang Seulgi’s wedding, while Yuta was out with some cousin or uncle who was visiting Seoul for a business trip, Taeyong sat in the middle of his bedroom floor and thought back through those moments in the beginning of high school that bound himself and Yuta closer together until their lives were impossible to disentangle from one another. He couldn’t remember now who Yuta’s secret admirer had been—it hadn’t turned out to be Choi Hyojung—but he was grateful to her, whoever she was, for initiating the chain of events that led to Yuta coming out to Taeyong when he did. It was because of Yuta that in the following months, gradually, Taeyong was able to admit to himself that maybe he liked boys too. Not that he wanted to be friends with them or be like them or be them, which was how he’d written off previous crushes, but that he wanted to, like, kiss them, and stuff. He figured that if Yuta, the person he admired most in the world, could be gay, then it wouldn’t be so weird if Taeyong were gay too.

Taeyong thought about all this, sitting there on his rug with his legs straddled and Max gnawing at the cuff of his jeans, and started to write his letter. He only had to rewrite it once. It felt honest. He figured it wouldn’t get any better than this, and sealed it in an envelope before he could find another flaw with it. He wrote Yuta’s name in Japanese on the front, and “ _To Yuta, Love Taeyong_ ” on the back in Korean. Then he opened the top drawer of his dresser, which held his notebooks and journals, and tucked it neatly into the back left corner.

He didn’t think long about when he would give Yuta the letter. It seemed only logical to conclude that the wedding would be the best time. It was an entire event devoted to love, and apparently the venue wasn’t a wedding hall, but some fancy villa east of the city. And the reception, instead of lasting a short while like most Korean wedding receptions, was set to go from six to midnight. Six hours! There would be plenty of time for a little love letter. He’d wait till well after the ceremony, when the reception was winding down. It would be beautiful. It would be perfect.

He tried to put it from his mind after that, but too soon it was April, and then it was April fifth, and it was the day of Kang Seulgi’s wedding, and Taeyong’s time was up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew! halfway through! if you're still here, thank you for sticking with this fic! things are gonna pick up pretty soon so stay tuned woot


	9. everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everything / 10cm

“You’re making sure the colors match, right?”

“Match what?”

“My suit.”

Taeyong felt Yuta’s hand lift from his face. “Your suit is black.”

Taeyong opened his eyes. “Yeah, but like. You’re doing a neutral color scheme, right?”

Yuta laughed aloud and both of them looked down at the eyeshadow palette in Yuta’s other hand. “Yeah, so, I’m using the Blood Moon Red,” said Yuta, pointing to a vibrant shade of crimson in the corner, “uh, a little bit of the Marrakech Orange, and Classic Gold. And some pink. So yeah. Pretty neutral.”

“Is this another experiment? Am I just your guinea pig again?” Taeyong said even though he loved being Yuta’s guinea pig.

Yuta frowned. “You’re not ‘just’ anything.” He looked away. “And this isn’t an experiment. I practiced this look at school a bunch of times and I’ve been waiting for a chance to try it out on you, so.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Taeyong said at Yuta’s tone. “I trust you.”

“Fine. Close your eyes.”

Taeyong closed his eyes and felt the heel of Yuta’s hand rest against his cheek. “All I meant was, like, are you sure it’s okay for a wedding,” Taeyong said as the makeup brush dabbed at the corner of his right eye.

“This isn’t just any wedding,” Yuta said. “It’s _Kang Seulgi’s_ wedding.”

“I mean, yeah, but…”

“If you’re worried about showing up the brides, I understand your concern,” Yuta said as he feathered over Taeyong’s other eyelid. Yuta’s touch was so light, Taeyong could barely feel the pressure of the brush. “As the most beautiful boy in the world, you have to worry about these kinds of things. It would be inconsiderate not to. _But_ …”

“The most beautiful…?”

“Stop talking, your mouth is making my hand move. Anyway, this is probably the only time in your life you won’t have to worry about making other people look ugly by comparison. Because no one can show up Seulgi and Joohyun. Not even you. You’ll know what I mean when you see them. Besides, you saw the invite that came in the mail, the dress code is Flamboyant Sexy. They _want_ people to go all out. I think Kang Seulgi’s exact words were ‘the gayer the better.’”

Taeyong pursed his lips to keep a smile down and Yuta continued to brush makeup over his eyes. After a few minutes, Yuta said, “Taeyong?”

“Hm?”

“Do you not like it when I experiment on you? With the makeup?”

“Oh, god, no, I don’t mind it at all,” Taeyong said too quickly, shaking his head, and Yuta’s hand jostled. “Fuck,” said Yuta.

“Shit. Did I mess it up?”

“No. I can fix it. That’s my fault, I shouldn’t have made you talk.”

“I love being your…your…what did Ten say that one time, the first time I met him?”

Yuta smiled a little. “You mean when he said you’re the perfect canvas?”

Taeyong nodded. “Yeah. I love it. Really, I love it. I was just, like, teasing you just now.”

“Okay. Good.” Yuta ran a thumb over Taeyong’s eyebrow and Taeyong felt it as if it were a gesture of affection, deep in his chest, though he knew it must only be an attempt to wipe away a stray smudge of eyeshadow. “I figured you would tell me if you didn’t like it,” Yuta said. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Of course I’d tell you,” Taeyong said.

“You tell me everything.” Yuta was gazing at him with a tender smile, eyes soft.

“Yeahhh…” Taeyong’s mind slowed down and it didn’t even cross his mind that he was lying a little bit because all he could think was _pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty_ …

“Close your eyes,” Yuta said, and raised the brush again.

The order to stop looking at Yuta brought a childish scowl to Taeyong’s face, which made Yuta blink and laugh, “Wha—”

“No, sorry, I will,” said Taeyong, and shut his eyes quickly.

A few minutes later Yuta said, “Stand up.”

“Huh?” Taeyong opened his eyes.

“No, no, don’t open your eyes. Just stand up.”

Taeyong wobbled as he blindly rose from the floor, and then he felt Yuta catch his hand. He steadied himself, closing his fingers around Yuta’s. He felt his hand being tugged on and followed Yuta over the rug until Yuta stopped him, gripped his shoulders, and turned him around.

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

They stood in front of the mirror above Yuta’s bureau. Taeyong’s face was a microcosm of sunrise, beginning at his hair and echoing around his eyes down to the dusky lip tint Yuta had applied an hour ago. He couldn’t tell where one color ended and the next began. He watched his own lips part in silent amazement. Yuta had turned him into a falling star.

“Masterpiece,” Yuta said in a low voice.

Taeyong’s fingertips wandered over his lips. “I look like a…genie fairy prince.”

Yuta grinned. “Yeah. A highly fuckable genie fairy prince.”

Taeyong’s eyes met Yuta’s in the mirror. “Really?”

“I’d fuck you,” Yuta said, and slapped Taeyong’s ass before crossing the room to his jewelry box.

Taeyong’s breath caught in his throat and his reflection made a comically flabbergasted expression at him. “Seriously?”

Yuta glanced back at him, hands busy at his ear removing his stud earring. “What do you mean, ‘seriously?’”

“I—I don’t know,” Taeyong muttered, flush reaching up from his neck over his cheeks.

“If that hunk you refuse to confess to could see you now, hoo boy,” Yuta said as he dug in his jewelry box, “he’d _beg_ to be stepped on by you. Unless you’re over him, though, then I’d punch him hard enough for him to fly all the way to Pyeongyang so you never have to see him again.”

“That’s hot,” Taeyong said, not trusting himself to properly speak a longer sentence.

Yuta laughed. “Yeah? Is it going to be necessary?”

“Huh?”

Yuta held up a gold earring to the side of his face, looked in the smaller mirror that stood on his desk, shook his head, and put it back. “Like, do you still like that guy? It’s been months.”

“I still like him,” said Taeyong.

Yuta pouted his lips a little. “Okay, so no punching. I’m just saying, though. You should take a hot picture and send it to him or something.”

“UGH,” Taeyong shouted, unable to coherently respond to this.

“Flamboyant Sexy,” Yuta said, “here we come,” and put in a dangly silver earring that he loved but rarely wore. He smiled with satisfaction and turned around, saw Taeyong still standing immobilized on the other side of the room, and put his hands on his hips. “Yo, are you good? We have to leave in a half hour.”

“Are you going to wear any makeup?” Taeyong shook himself and picked up the suit lying on Yuta’s bed.

Yuta made a face and said emphatically, “I don’t want to,” before reaching for the hair product on his shelf.

“Let me put a little eyeshadow on you, please, _please_ , oh god,” Taeyong said.

Yuta made an exasperated noise, turned halfway around, shook his head, and said, “ _Noo_.”

“Whyyyy…”

“I have a style and makeup isn’t it, Tae,” Yuta said.

Taeyong clucked his tongue and said, “Fine,” stripping the drycleaning plastic off of his suit.

Yuta fussed with his hair while Taeyong patted down the suit, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles. Yuta said again, “Flamboyant Sexy…” and then a second later he groaned loudly.

“Yuta?” said Taeyong.

“FINE,” Yuta said.

“What?”

“You can do my eyes just this one night.”

Taeyong thrilled a little. “Ah! Really?”

“A LITTLE. If I forget and rub my eye, I better not come out looking like a clown. Understand?”

“Yes! Yes! I won’t make you look like a clown! Oh my god, this is going to be magical.” Taeyong shuffled to lay the suit down gently on the bed and grabbed for Yuta’s makeup bag. Yuta had his arms folded grouchily, but his smile was growing.

“Sit,” Taeyong said. “Sit down. You’re going to look like a king. You’re going to—who’s the Greek god of beauty?”

“I believe you’re thinking of the goddess Aphrodite.”

“Okay, well, sure, you’re going to look like Aphrodite. No. You’re going to look like the sun god. I don’t know his name. But he’s fucking hot.”

“Hell,” said Yuta as Taeyong knelt in front of him, clattering through the eyeshadow palettes in the makeup bag in search of his favorite neutrals, “if I had known it would make you _this_ happy, I would have let you do my makeup every day of my life.”

Taeyong tilted his head. “Can I do your makeup every day from now on?”

Yuta’s smile froze and his eyes looked up to the ceiling. “Uhh…no.”

They giggled and Taeyong said, “’Kay. Close your eyes.”

It took a second for the smile lines around Yuta’s eyes to uncrease. Taeyong used as warm a shade of brown as he thought he could get away with. He finished too quickly, but the surprise on Yuta’s face when he looked in the mirror was worth it.

“Hey…you really nailed it,” Yuta said, softly, leaning closer to the mirror.

Taeyong didn’t answer. Yuta’s eyes were like candle flames. Other times when he wore makeup, like at Johnny’s photoshoot at Valentine’s Day, his looks were sharp, often experimental. Suddenly, now, he looked like a cartoon lifted from the pages of a comic. All warm and vivid. It was different. And it was making Taeyong’s heart thunder.

“I’ll do it for Flamboyant Sexy, I guess,” Yuta said, and turned around.

“You look amazing,” Taeyong breathed.

“Like the sun god. I know.” Yuta waved in front of Taeyong’s face. “Hello? Baby? You in there?”

Both of them jumped when Taeyong’s phone went off and high-schooler-Jaehyun’s voice belted, “ _I CAN SHOW YOU THE WORLD…_ ”

“It’s _so_ Jaehyun,” Yuta said with an eye roll as Taeyong scrambled for the phone.

“No it’s not! I just love his voice!”

“Uh-huh. It’s Jaehyun.”

“Yuta, for the two hundred and eighty-seventh time, I don’t like Jaehyun,” Taeyong said and put the phone to his ear.

“Who likes Jaehyun?” said Mark’s voice.

“No one!” Taeyong said.

“Damn, I mean, I too find him offensively good-looking, but he doesn’t deserve _that_ ,” said another voice, and there was a wave of snickering on the other end.

“Hyuck?” Taeyong said. “Am I on speaker?”

“We’re almost at your house. Are you guys ready to go?” said Mark.

“Fuck.” Taeyong angled the phone away from his face. “Yuta, they’re almost here.”

“Who? The kids?”

“We are _adults!_ ” gasped Donghyuck.

“Give us like fifteen minutes,” Taeyong said, and hung up. He lifted his suit off Yuta’s bed and went to his room, calling over his shoulder, “Thanks for the makeup.”

“Don’t thank me, thank you,” was the answer.

Taeyong styled his hair up as quickly as he could, and then put on a red satin dress shirt he’d bought just for today and pulled on the black suit over it. He looked alarmingly intense in the mirror. “Flamboyant sexy, flamboyant sexy,” he told himself, and opened his top dresser drawer.

Inside were two slim white envelopes. Taeyong took them out of the drawer. One contained a significant chunk of cash and read “To Seulgi & Joohyun, With Love from Yuta & Taeyong.” The other bore Yuta’s name written in Japanese on the front. Taeyong turned it over and ran a finger over the sealed flap.

Yuta’s voice came from down the hall: “You got the envelope with the cash?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong called back, and stuffed the two envelopes into his suit jacket.

“Can we go?” Yuta said, and a second later added, “Hyuck and Mark are harassing me on Snapchat. Are you getting these?”

Taeyong opened his lock screen to a stack of Snapchat notifications from Donghyuck. “Let me feed Max real quick,” he said.

When Yuta walked into the kitchen, Taeyong was squatting next to Max and scratching his ears while he inhaled his kibbles like a chubby vacuum. Taeyong looked up and thought, _Oh god_.

Yuta cleared his throat and said something but Taeyong didn’t really hear him. Yuta was a vision. Yuta was a prince. The suit, the suit and the pale peach dress shirt and wavy hair parting over his forehead and the earring sparkling at the side of his face like a tiny star, and _Yuta_. He was magnificent. Heartstopping. Taeyong wanted to take his hand and pull him to his room and lock them in there together until dawn broke tomorrow morning.

Yuta glanced back and forth between Taeyong and Max. “Tae?”

“Sorry, what?” Taeyong said.

“I just was saying how incredible you look,” Yuta said, and held out a hand. Taeyong grabbed it like it was a life preserver. Yuta pulled him up into a standing position.

“You, you…” Taeyong said, “you’re so gorgeous.”

Yuta laughed, looking away. “You think that’s wild? I’m not even the most gorgeous person here.”

_He’s going to kill me_. “Learn to take a compliment instead of deflecting,” said Taeyong, more indignant at how affected he was by Yuta right now than at the compliment deflecting.

Yuta squinted. “This coming from the champion compliment deflector? Please.”

“I don’t deflect compliments.”

“What did you _just_ do—”

“Mark and Hyuck are waiting downstairs,” said Taeyong and grabbed his wallet off the counter, striding past Yuta to the door.

Taeyong spent the entire cab ride squished between Mark and Hyuck, which meant that he spent the entire cab ride caught in the gooey crossfire of awkward flirting from Mark’s side and nervous jokes from Hyuck’s side while Yuta sat in the passenger seat. It was a long ride—the venue was well outside Seoul—and Taeyong began to feel like his letter to Yuta was burning a hole in his suit.

“I’ve never been to a wedding that wasn’t in a wedding hall before,” said Mark. He was gazing at the sunlit greens and blues out the window, one leg jiggling.

“I’ve never been to a wedding at all,” Hyuck said. They looked at each other and burst into laughter. Taeyong restrained an eye roll.

“Joohyun has big bank money because she’s the co-founder of some big, like, tech company or something,” said Yuta from the front. “So she said why not rent out a villa and invite all the LGBTQ pluses they know.”

“It feels like we’re on our way to gay prom,” Hyuck said.

Mark turned in surprise. “Prom is a thing in Korea?”

Hyuck blinked and said, “No,” and the two of them burst out laughing again.

Taeyong’s phone buzzed with a text. It was from Yuta. “ _WHAT IS SO FUNNY SKDNGOISD”_

Taeyong grinned and was about to text back when Hyuck wriggled next to him and screamed, “IS THAT IT?”

“Looks to be,” said the cab driver.

“Holy macaroons,” said Yuta.

They all peered out the windows at a sprawling stone structure perched at the top of a hill above a row of windmills. The low sun had slathered its rock walls in gold light, and the building seemed to glow like a beacon. A stream of colorfully dressed people were climbing a lantern-lit path lined with yellow forsythias from the base of the driveway to the bright gate at the front of the building.

“Oh my god, it’s insane,” said Mark.

“It looks just like my fairy forefathers’ ancestral home!” Hyuck said.

“Letting you folks out here. Can’t get stuck in the roundabout behind other cars, you know?” said the cab driver.

“Sure. Yes. Thank you. Let’s go, lads,” said Yuta. Taeyong was still astonished at the way he looked right now. How was it possible that he was walking this earth? He should be in heaven with all the other angels.

They shuffled out of the cab and stood shoulder to shoulder gaping up at the villa. A group of older people passed through the gate while a string of young women called and chattered to each other on their way up the gleaming path. The faint sounds of music floated out of the villa. “You’re telling me Kang Seulgi and Joohyun are getting married in that Studio Ghibli-looking castle place?” Hyuck said.

“Tonight there will be magic, my dear gays,” said Yuta, and took off down the driveway to the path. Taeyong ran to catch up with him and Hyuck and Mark followed a few paces behind.

The walk up the hill, while exquisitely lovely between the gold setting sun and the forsythias glowing in the lantern light, proved tougher than the other guests made it look. By the time they reached the curtain-draped gate at the top, Taeyong was more than winded. Yuta turned around and rested an elbow on Taeyong’s shoulder as they caught their breath.

“All that wedding cake I’m going to eat later,” panted Hyuck as he climbed the last few steps, hand in Mark’s, “they made me earn it. Now I can pig out without feeling guilty. Ah, Kang Seulgi. Always doing what’s best for me even if I don’t know it myself yet.”

“Hey, Donghyuck! Yuta!”

They turned towards the sound of the accented voice. A girl with long red hair strode out from between the sheer yellow curtains over the gate, floor-length orange gown flowing behind her. She held her arms out and Yuta reached to squeeze her.

“Hi Ros. Oh my god, you’re such a queen,” Yuta said.

“Rosie! Where’s Jennie? I want to see the makeup you did for her,” said Hyuck.

She shrugged. “She’s somewhere in there. We’re supposed to be out here manning the gift box, but Joohyun summoned her to help with the dress.”

Yuta reached for Taeyong and said, “Tae, this is a friend of ours from beauty school. Rosie, this is Taeyong.”

“Taeyong! It’s a pleasure. I’m Rosé,” she said, and inclined her head.

“Hi! Your dress is beautiful,” said Taeyong.

“Thank you so much. Your makeup looks fantastic.” She leaned back, looking them up and down. “God, you two make _the_ most stunning couple. Spare some charisma for the rest of us.”

“Oh, we—” Yuta and Taeyong both said, and looked at each other.

“We’re…” Taeyong said.

“We’re not together,” Yuta finished, laughing. “He’s my best friend since high school.”

Hyuck and Mark tittered. Rosé’s mouth rounded into an O and then she said, “Oops! Sorry. Well, you _do_ look great together. Just saying. Anyways…” She turned to Hyuck and Mark, who were still standing hand-in-hand.

“Oh, uh, this is Mark,” said Hyuck shyly.

“Oh—” Rosé paused, pointed at Taeyong, and pointed back at Mark. “He’s—? _You’re_ the cute brother?”

“ _Rosieee_ …” Hyuck whimpered.

“Yeah,” said Mark, grinning at Hyuck, “I guess that’s me,” and Hyuck’s look of mortification softened.

Rosé folded her hands. “Glad you could come. Any friend of the baby’s is a friend of ours.”

Mark giggled and Hyuck said, “The baby? Who said I’m the b—”

“Is Ten here yet? Did you get to meet his date?” Yuta said, trying to peek through the space between the yellow curtains.

“Nah. Haven’t seen him. He might have come in while Jennie was out here, though,” she said. “If you have anything to give the brides-to-be, I’ll stick it in the box and you can head inside and look for him.” She waved behind her at a white letterbox with a slit just wide enough for envelopes of cash.

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” said Taeyong, digging inside his jacket. He pulled out the envelope of cash and handed it to Rosé, who took it, along with the envelope Hyuck held out.

“Beautiful. Thank you. Ceremony starts in a half hour, so go get good seats.” Rosé ushered them between the curtains and into the villa.

Taeyong ducked his head, pushed the translucent yellow curtains aside with the back of one hand and stepped into a humming froth of color. Rows and rows of chairs stood between him and a dais covered in white and yellow flowers, vibrant against the blue sky behind it. A string quartet dressed in yellow was playing something dreamy in the left corner. The roof was open, and sunlight gilded the flowers along the top of the dais while dozens of people dressed in flashing color stood among the chairs. Kang Seulgi’s extravagant dress code had been adhered to, at least, by the younger guests, but Taeyong didn’t recognize any of them, except—

“Tennie!” yelled Hyuck, drawing stares from a few elderly people sitting nearby, and leapt over a row of chairs to throw his arms around Ten’s neck.

Ten looked captivating, a warm smoky eyeshadow color deepening the hollows of his eyes to make the burgundy suit he wore even more striking. His hair was slicked back but a strand hung in his eyes, and the effect was simultaneously elegant and roguish. “Hyuckie-wuckie,” he said, detaching Hyuck’s arms from around his neck. “Hey, Yuta, Taeyongie, hi, Mark.”

“Ten! Urgent question!” Hyuck leaned in close to Ten’s ear and stage-whispered so that everyone around them could hear, “Is that who I think it is?”

Ten gave him a light shove. Then he pulled the boy who had been standing next to him with a small smile closer and said, “Yes, indeed, this is the famed Qian Kun. Kun, these are my friends.”

“The _‘famed’_ Qian Kun, huh,” said the boy. He had a dazzlingly warm smile—it almost, _almost,_ rivaled Yuta’s, Taeyong thought—and bleached blond hair offset by strong eyebrows. “Kinda like the sound of that.”

“In some circles you’re a celebrity,” Ten said. “By ‘some circles’ I mean Donghyuck and Donghyuck only. But that’s still something to be proud of.”

Kun laughed. “Sure, I’ll take what I can get, I guess.”

“So this is Hyuck, you know, the beauty school gremlin,” Ten said, “and the lovely Mark, who for reasons unknown agreed to accompany him tonight. That’s Yuta, the beauty school genius. And our darling Taeyongie, who happens to be Mark’s older brother.”

“Did you call me a genius?” Yuta said.

“Did you call me a _gremlin?_ ” said Hyuck.

Ten shrugged and said, “It’s what he knows you as,” then linked his arm in Kun’s and smiled innocently.

“Your makeup, Taeyong, it’s unreal. Did Yuta do it?” said Kun.

Taeyong looked down. “Oh—yeah. Thank you. It’s all him.” He glanced at Yuta, who was glowing with pride.

A girl with mermaid-blue flowers braided into her hair who had been standing a few feet away from Kun turned around and put a hand on Ten’s shoulder, saying, “Is little Hyuckie here?”

Hyuck groaned. “Why is everyone babying me today? I’m grown!”

“Sure you are.” She sidestepped a chair and moved to give him a hug. “You look awesome. Hey, Yuta.”

“Hi Sinbi,” said Yuta.

“Oh my god. Hyuck. Is this _Mark?_ ” the girl said.

Hyuck winced and said, “That guy? Maybe he is Mark. Maybe he isn’t Mark. Maybe he’s a hobo I picked up off the street forty-five minutes ago.”

Mark backhanded Hyuck in the ribs, lightly enough that it was really more of a tap, and Hyuck doubled over, puffing as if he’d been sucker-punched.

“Cleans up well for a hobo,” said the girl. She smiled at Mark and Taeyong, and said, “My name’s Eunbi. But you can call me Sinbi, like, Sin B.”

“Hi, Sinbi,” said Mark.

“This is Taeyong,” said Yuta. He told Taeyong, “Sinbi’s another friend from cosmetic school.”

“Once you get a haircut from Sinbi you’ll never go to a hair salon ever again,” said Ten.

“Is your girlfriend around?” Yuta asked Sinbi, and she looked over her shoulder.

“Yuju? Yeah, she’s somewhere. I think she’s over there…”

Taeyong was about to start tuning out the introductions and the small talk and the names he didn’t know when Sinbi, one arm hooked around Hyuck’s neck, turned to him and said, “So you and Yuta have been together for like ever, right? How long ago did you meet?”

Taeyong took a breath. “Ahh…”

“Everyone’s mistaking you two for a couple tonight,” Hyuck said. “Can’t blame them. You look like a K-drama pair. If K-dramas were gay.”

“Oh…?” said Sinbi.

“Yeah, we’re—he’s my best friend. Nine years,” said Yuta.

“Oh, yikes. My bad,” said Sinbi with an apologetic grin.

“No, it’s okay,” said Yuta, laughing and looking at Taeyong, who added, “It happens a lot, honestly.”

“Sinbi, you know if there’s a bathroom around here? I wanna go before the ceremony starts,” said Hyuck.

“Oh, I have to go too,” Mark said quickly.

Sinbi pointed them to a doorless archway at the back of the left wall, and Mark and Hyuck scampered beneath it like a couple of puppies escaping out the back door. Then Sinbi, Ten and Yuta began to chatter about their latest project at beauty school, and Taeyong’s mind wandered back to his letter to Yuta. He’d have to give it to him after the ceremony, of course, during the reception. Maybe he’d leave it on Yuta’s plate before dinner—though then Yuta might open it with a lot of people around—or maybe he’d put it on his chair…

“This is the guy I was telling you about whose dad runs the marketing team for Fuku Tea,” Sinbi was telling Yuta, yanking on the hand of a kid with coral-orange hair, who pulled along with him another boy with hair a darker shade of pink. Both of them were wearing white suits, and though they didn’t look much alike, they somehow struck Taeyong as two different versions of the same person.

“Hi! Y’all looking for a tea enthusiast or…?” said the orange-haired kid, looking around the circle with bright eyes.

“Minnie, this is my friend from beauty school,” Sinbi said. “He’s been thinking about switching gears and looking for a job in communications instead.”

Taeyong blinked at Yuta, stomach sinking. “I didn’t know you were still thinking about leaving beauty school,” he said.

Yuta ignored him, but Taeyong felt Yuta’s hand find his and caress the inside of his wrist with one thumb. “Hey, it’s great to meet you,” he was saying. “I’m Yuta. This is Taeyong.”

“I’m Changmin,” said the boy, and reached behind him to draw his pink-haired counterpart forward. “And that’s my boyfriend Chanhee. Yeah, though, I could definitely get you an interview if you wanted. You’re interested in marketing?”

Yuta nodded. “Uh-huh. I’ve got a degree in communications with a certification in psych, and I’ve always liked trying to convince people about things, so…”

Taeyong looked around. Ten and Kun had vanished when he wasn’t paying attention. People were taking their seats—the ceremony must be starting soon.

“Sounds pretty similar to a lot of the people my dad works with, I think!” said Changmin. “I don’t know if they have any full-time openings right now, but there’s always room for interns.”

“He’s incredibly talented with makeup, though,” Sinbi put in. “I mean, just look at Taeyong.”

She gestured to Taeyong’s face, and the two boys’ mouths rounded in admiration.

“You did that?” said Chanhee.

“That’s so crazy,” said Changmin.

“To be honest here,” Yuta said, “I think I’m getting a lot of the credit for making Taeyong look good when really, it’s his face that does most of the work.”

Chanhee turned to Taeyong with a sigh. “You have no idea how lucky you are to have a boyfriend who’s good with makeup _and_ compliments. Changmin could never.”

Taeyong and Yuta looked at each other. “Oh, Yuta’s…I’m…” said Taeyong.

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum didn’t notice. “I could do your makeup nice!” Changmin was saying. Chanhee rolled his eyes.

“Doubt it…”

“Plus I give you compliments all the time, didn’t I just tell you yesterday that you have the best nose out of all our friends?” said Changmin, to which Chanhee replied, “No, you told _Eric_ he has the best nose out of all our friends,” and Changmin said, “Oh yeah…”

Just then a wave of shushing arose around the room, and Changmin and Chanhee froze. “I’ll get your number from Sinbi later,” Changmin told Yuta, and Chanhee gave Taeyong a dainty wave before the two of them scrambled back to their seats. Sinbi moved a few seats down to where Kun and Ten were slipping into chairs at the end of the row.

Taeyong turned around to scan the room. Yuta tugged on his sleeve. Taeyong shook him off.

“Tae, siddown.”

“I don’t see Mark and Hyuck,” Taeyong whispered.

“Well the quartet is playing the walking-down-the-aisle song, so Seulgi and Joohyun will be coming out any—”

“It’s been like twenty minutes, I’m going to look for them,” said Taeyong. He was about to climb over the back of his chair when he spotted Hyuck, head down, emerging from the archway on the left. Hyuck turned to look over his shoulder and Mark appeared behind him. They exchanged smiles. Taeyong waved his hand above his head, but neither of them looked at him. Instead Hyuck reached for Mark and yanked him into the last row of chairs at the back.

“They’re fine, now sit down,” said Yuta.

“What were they _doing_ ,” said Taeyong as he took a seat, still peering back at the two of them. He couldn’t really see their faces, until some old man blocking his view leaned out of the way, and he saw Mark say something that made Hyuck glare at him and draw his finger across his throat.

“I don’t know. Maybe they were fixing their hair and stuff. Or maybe they were exploring the villa,” said Yuta. “Hey, maybe they were finally having the boyfriend talk.”

“Nah, they haven’t even kissed yet,” said Taeyong as he watched Mark lean closer to whisper in Hyuck’s ear. Suddenly Hyuck turned his face and caught Mark’s lips in a lightning-quick peck and then, just as quickly, turned away again.

Taeyong screamed in the back of his throat and smacked Yuta’s shoulder.

Mark didn’t seem taken aback in the slightest. He only grinned and said something else, which Hyuck ignored, blithely blinking up at the sky. Mark rolled his eyes and said something short. When Hyuck turned to him with wide eyes, Mark snuck another kiss, and then they just sat there giggling.

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” Yuta said, who had turned around.

“OHMYGOD,” Taeyong said without opening his mouth.

“Oh my god. Did you just see that?”

“I SAW IT,” Taeyong loud-whispered. The old man had settled back into his seat, cutting the duo out of view again. Taeyong turned to Yuta and batted at him violently. Yuta put up his palms to rebuff Taeyong’s punches.

“It happened,” said Yuta, “it happened.” He caught Taeyong’s hands and shook them.

Taeyong whispered giddily, “It happened it happened—”

“It’s _happening_ ,” said Yuta, his voice suddenly dropping lower as he looked over Taeyong’s shoulder.

Taeyong fell silent. Yuta’s hair looked really good— _really_ good, all wavy, falling on either side of his face and shining like obsidian. It was probably super soft right now. Probably smelled good too. Yuta’s hair always smelled good. Was it his shampoo? It always smelled like sun and summer.

“Tae,” Yuta said.

“Hm?”

Yuta nodded to the back and Taeyong turned around.

Joohyun was standing at the end of the aisle, haloed by the yellow glow streaming behind her through the curtains over the entrance. Taeyong’s mouth fell open at the sight. He suddenly remembered Yuta telling him earlier that day, “You’ll know what I mean when you see them.” Taeyong _did_ know what he meant. Joohyun was stunning. Her smile was small, maybe a little nervous, and infinitely charming. Her makeup was light and her hair straight down. She wore a white and sleeveless dress, simple at the top but with minute lace details along the bottom that were visible when she made her way down the aisle and strode past Taeyong and Yuta’s row.

“That’s Joohyun,” Yuta whispered in his ear, and Taeyong nodded. He recognized her from the wedding picture that had appeared on the paper invitation, but couldn’t have imagined how little justice photos did her.

Joohyun reached the flowered dais and bowed to the master of ceremonies, then to an older couple dressed in hanbok in the first row who must be her parents. Then she turned around and looked to the back, eyes searching across the room.

Everyone else’s eyes followed Joohyun’s to the right side of the room, where Rosé and another pretty girl dressed in purple were beckoning at someone on the other side of an archway. Taeyong craned to see past the other guests’ heads and then Seulgi appeared, enchanting in yellow, hair up in a flowered bun and hand half-covering a beaming smile. She crossed to the end of the aisle and gripped her white-and-yellow bouquet in her hands, but couldn’t manage to stop smiling at the faces around her. The yellow light around her seemed to radiate not from the curtained gate, but from Seulgi herself.

Taeyong glanced back at Joohyun. All traces of nerves had vanished from her smile. A photographer was snapping pictures three feet from her face, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Seulgi arrived at the end of the aisle faster than Joohyun had. In fact, she practically ran. When she made it to the dais she just beamed at Joohyun until the master of ceremonies prompted her and she jumped to make her bows, eyes never un-crescenting. Taeyong’s heart felt mushy. He looked at Yuta.

And there Yuta was. Solid, warm, tender, everything. Close enough to touch.

Yuta turned to him, and instantly his face was transformed by a breathtaking smile. He tilted his head in silent question. Taeyong was having a hard time looking away from him for some reason, and he didn’t until Yuta whispered, “You okay?”

“Mm-hm,” Taeyong said, and refocused his attention on the front where the master of ceremonies was speaking. The setting sun was now level with the horizon, and a perfect circle of yellow light was pouring through the gateway onto the dais. Joohyun and Seulgi looked like they were in a world apart.

The ceremony passed quickly. They took their vows Western-style, with words that they had prepared themselves, Joohyun reading several sweet lines from a piece of paper with trembling hands and Seulgi gleefully reeling off love words that were cinched with a joyful “And I’ll always protect you from Yerim’s pranks!” which made some girls in the second row shriek. Taeyong was pretty sure this was the most beautiful wedding he’d ever been to. Maybe the most beautiful wedding ever.

After the vows and the bows and such they were pronounced married, and everyone stood up to clap. Joohyun smiled out at the crowd while some of their friends on the right side hollered. Seulgi, bouquet still clutched in her hands, looked at Joohyun with a grin and then threw her arms around her to give her a kiss. The cheering rose and cameras flashed as Joohyun stumbled backwards a little and Seulgi caught her before they pulled apart, laughing.

“Girls are so amazing,” said Taeyong.

“I know, right?” Yuta said, clapping furiously.


	10. till the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> till the end / lucy rose

Once the guests were herded down a flight of steps and into an open-air courtyard filled with yellow-draped tables for the reception, Yuta and Taeyong tracked down Hyuck and Mark. Immediately upon spotting them, Yuta grabbed Hyuck by his jacket sleeve and dragged him off in the direction of the bar, throwing over his shoulder a quick “We’ll go get everyone drinks” while Hyuck flailed his arms indignantly. Mark and Taeyong were left standing next to a small fountain, which Mark made a show of admiring so he could avoid Taeyong’s eye.

“ _Mark?_ ” Taeyong said.

“Huh? Me? What?” Mark turned to him, feigning obliviousness.

Taeyong folded his arms.

Mark’s front broke and he said, “I kissed him,” with a sunny giggle.

“I SAW,” said Taeyong.

Mark looked at him strangely. “You saw?”

“Yeah, I was looking for you guys when the ceremony was starting and I saw you in the last row being all—”

Mark was laughing and shaking his head. “Ah. No. That wasn’t even what I was talking about.”

“What do you _mean_ , that wasn’t—?”

Mark pulled him past some tables to the waist-high stone wall at the edge of the courtyard, which looked out over the other side of the hill where the evening was gathering in purples and blues. “Okay, so, what happened is…” Mark giggled and put his hands on his face. “Oh my god. So like…”

“Spit it out?” Taeyong said.

“Yeah, so, we went to look for the bathroom, but I didn’t really have to go, I just wanted to stay with him, and we kind of wandered around for a while and couldn’t find it—those hallways back there are like a maze, actually—”

“Yeah, and?”

“And after a while I was like, ‘Maybe we should go back and ask where it was again,’ and Hyuck was like, ‘Only if you want, I don’t actually have to go.’ And I was like, ‘What, neither do I,’ and he was like, ‘Oh, okay,’ and I asked him why he said he had to go if he didn’t…” Mark rolled his eyes, laughed, and covered half his face with one hand again.

“Mark Lee!” Taeyong said.

“He went like this…” he said and folded his arms, looking at Taeyong with a cute scowl, and then burst into laughter. “And he said, ‘My friends are being super embarrassing,’ so I was like, ‘You really don’t like being the baby of the group?’” Mark could barely speak through the giggles. “And he went, ‘Oh, no, I love being the baby.’ So I was like, ‘Then what are you embarrassed about?’”

“Uh huh?”

“It took me like five minutes to make him tell me that he was embarrassed by everyone exposing how much he talks about me to his friends at beauty school,” Mark said. “So _I_ said…oh my god!”

“Mark, please.”

Mark said very rapidly, “Basically I told him he shouldn’t be embarrassed because I really liked him and I talk about him all the time too—”

Taeyong yelled, “Ah!”

“—and he was like, ‘really?’ and I was like ‘uh-huh’ and he said ‘No way,’ and I said, ‘Yeah way!’ and he said, ‘Nuh-uh,’ so I kissed him and FINALLY he shut up.”

Taeyong covered his mouth with both hands and made a screeching noise.

“And then,” Mark said and threw up his hands happily, “he said he likes me too!”

“What a surprise,” said Taeyong.

“Shush. And he was like, ‘So it’s not weird that all my friends know about you?’ and I told him it was cute and he got _so_ red. And then we heard the music change and we realized everyone had gotten super quiet so we ran back to the ceremony.”

“Oh my god, I’m so proud,” Taeyong gasped.

Mark puffed out his cheeks. “Mhmm.”

“Baby’s first boyfriend. What a proud day!”

“Oh we’re not boyfriends y—” Mark paused and his eyes widened. “Are we boyfriends?”

“Well you’ve been dating,” said Taeyong.

“Oh my god, we’ve been dating,” said Mark.

“And you told each other you like each other,” Taeyong continued.

“Oh my god,” said Mark in wonder, “we said we like each other.”

“But you should still ask him officially,” Taeyong concluded, pushing back a lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead.

Mark nodded and said, “Yeah. I’ll ask him officially.”

Taeyong took a look around for Yuta and Hyuck, but the milling crowd was mostly full of unfamiliar faces. “How do you think you’re gonna do it?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’ll write a letter that I’ll wait and wait and wait for the perfect moment to deliver and then end up never delivering it,” Mark said sarcastically.

Taeyong reached for Mark’s neck to throttle him. Mark dodged his hands cleanly.

“There were—I had some setbacks, okay? That doesn’t matter now, because I’m giving it to him later,” Taeyong said, and patted at his jacket.

Mark raised his eyebrows. “Oh really?”

“Yeah, I brought it with me,” Taeyong said. “No moment could be more perfect than tonight, right? I mean, look at the…”

Mark nodded and gazed out at the courtyard, which a few minutes ago had been lit up by the illumination of twinkle lights strung in zigzags overhead. Taeyong, on the other hand, was suddenly and quickly descending into a state of panic as he felt around for the square outline of the envelope beneath his jacket and found nothing. He dug into the inside jacket pocket where he’d put it—nothing, only fabric. He felt underneath the opposite jacket flap. Nothing.

“What are you doing?” Mark said.

“I can’t find it,” Taeyong whispered. He pulled off his jacket and shook it out frantically. His wallet fell out with a thump.

“The letter?” said Mark, bending to pick up Taeyong’s wallet.

Taeyong’s hands patted all over his stomach, his chest, his back, his butt. “It’s not here,” he said in horror.

Mark squinted and said, “Why would it be in your butt?”

“Help me look for it!” Taeyong said, dropping to his knees and feeling through the grass.

Mark knelt down next to him. “What does it look like?”

“It’s just, like, a white envelope. With Yuta’s name written on the front. In Japanese.”

“A white envelope,” muttered Mark, casting a look around them.

Taeyong sat back on his heels and put his hands on either side of his head. “Oh my god, I’m fucked.”

Mark picked up Taeyong’s jacket which had fallen to the ground and said, “Okay, wait, where did you last have it?”

“If I knew, then I’d go there, wouldn’t I, Mark?” said Taeyong hysterically.

“Did you have it during the ceremony?”

Taeyong pinched his nose. “I—I think so. Yes? I have no idea!”

“Let’s just,” said Mark, standing up, “first, let’s just look between here and the fountain where you and Yuta accosted me and Hyuck.”

“Okay! Yes,” said Taeyong, energized, and scurried between the tables, eyes trained on the ground. Mark followed him, the jacket in one hand and the wallet in the other.

They doubled back twice along the path they’d taken and came up with nothing. Taeyong got on his hands and knees on the third loop and began to look under chairs, murmuring, “It might have gotten kicked or something…”

“Taeyong,” said Mark, “get up.”

Taeyong ignored him. “Excuse me,” he said to a pair of older men standing in his way who looked down at him with alarm, “I’m sorry, I’m just looking for something, if you could just…”

“Yong, it’s not down there. We should go back upstairs and look.”

Taeyong scuttled between two chairs and raised the edge of a yellow tablecloth. “Just let me check…”

“Taeyonggg,” Mark groaned as Taeyong crawled beneath the table, taking out his phone to shine the flashlight on the ground. There was nothing under the table but grass, the table legs at the center, and an ant or two.

“I think I should look under all the tables just to be…” Taeyong said, crawling out from beneath the tablecloth and looking up right into the face of none other than Yuta himself.

“…sure,” said Taeyong.

“What’s going on? Did you lose something?” Yuta said, holding a glass of wine in both hands.

“Uh…” Taeyong, only halfway out from under the tablecloth, stared up at Mark, who had a pained look on his face, and at Hyuck, who was laughing behind his own wine glass.

“He lost his wallet,” said Mark.

“He did?” Hyuck said.

“I did?” Taeyong said.

“Oh no. Shit. Where did you last have it?” Yuta said. He set the wine glasses down the table and pulled Taeyong up.

“Oh, I…I don’t know,” said Taeyong. Mark rolled his eyes and put a hand on his hip.

“Well let’s tell somebody and they can make an announcement or something,” Yuta said.

“No, no,” said Taeyong, “we don’t have to do that—”

“I’ll text Ten and Kun,” said Hyuck, taking out his phone.

“Hang on,” said Mark, and put a hand on Hyuck’s arm. Hyuck paused and looked up at him. “You guys go look upstairs,” Mark said, “and me and Hyuck will let people know down here. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” said Yuta. He nodded at Taeyong. “C’mon, Tae. It’s the little blue wallet, right?”

“Uh huh,” said Taeyong, following him in the direction of the steps. He looked back over his shoulder at Mark, who was telling Hyuck something. Hyuck’s face lit up and he cheersed the two glasses he was still holding, then drank from one while Mark took the other out of his hand.

“I know you had it in the cab because you gave me cash in the middle of the ride to pay the driver,” Yuta said as they trailed past the other guests under the purpling spring twilight. With the sun gone, a chill was descending on the courtyard. Taeyong crossed his arms, realizing he’d left his suit jacket with Mark.

“Yeah,” said Taeyong, “so either I left it in there, or it’s somewhere around here.”

Yuta glanced at him and said, “Are you cold?”

Taeyong shook his head.

“Right. Here. Put this on.” Yuta pulled off his own jacket.

Taeyong groaned. “No, idiot, then _you’ll_ get cold.”

“Nuh-uh. I have a heat core. I’ll be fine.” Yuta draped the jacket across Taeyong’s shoulders and Taeyong’s heart beat a little faster in spite of himself.

“You’re so dumb. No one has a heat core.”

“Sure, you’re welcome, no problem, my pleasure.” Yuta jogged up the stone steps.

Taeyong’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he took it out. Mark had texted him, _i have your wallet in my back pocket_

Taeyong exhaled in relief. He hadn’t been sure what exactly Mark had done with the wallet. As he read the text, another one came in: _i told hyuck i stole it from u as a prank. i’ve already lied to my first boyfriend and he’s not even my boyfriend yet. u owe me so huge._

“News?” Yuta said from the top of the steps.

Taeyong shook his head. “No, just—Mark was telling me that they let Rosé know it’s missing.”

Yuta nodded and began to look around the room, which was now empty except for the flowered arch at the front and the rows of chairs. He scanned the corner near the stairs and then walked towards where they had been sitting. Taeyong, climbing the last step, was struck with the sudden fear that Yuta would find the letter right now, right here, in this moment, that he’d spot his name on the floor and bend down and pick up the envelope and open it, and read the first few lines aloud and then trail off when he realized what he was saying…

Then again, maybe now _was_ the best moment. It was out of Taeyong’s hands, so he couldn’t chicken out. There was no one else around. Only the two of them. And the last of the daylight coming in through the yellow curtains would be just bright enough to read by.

“Tae,” Yuta said, bent close to the floor, and Taeyong sucked in a breath, preparing himself for what felt like an enormous ending.

Yuta stood back up and said, “I don’t think there’s anything here.”

Taeyong stared at him dumbly. Then he puffed out the breath he’d inhaled.

“Do you want to do one more sweep through the courtyard? We didn’t really look around the bottom of the steps very closely,” said Yuta.

“Yeah…okay,” said Taeyong. He felt a little like crying all of a sudden.

“Hey, don’t worry. We’ll find it,” Yuta said, moving a chair out of his way.

“I know,” Taeyong said, and Yuta vaulted over the final row of chairs between the two of them to fold him into a tight hug. Taeyong buried his face in Yuta’s shoulder.

He was lucky, really, to be able to hold the boy he loved like this. To feel his hands flat against his back, his touch gentle through the satin shirt underneath the suit jacket that hung off one shoulder. To be able to smell his hair, the fresh tang of the product he’d used and the underlying summer-green scent of his shampoo.

“We’ll find it,” Yuta said again, and too soon he let Taeyong go. “Everyone here’s either too nice or too rich to want to take it. They’ll return it to Rosie or Jennie or somebody, or else the people who work here will find it later during cleanup, and they’ll get it back to you.”

Taeyong nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.” He had to let him know, he thought suddenly. With or without the letter, he had to let Yuta know how he felt, tonight. He couldn’t keep doing this.

“Okay. Let’s go downstairs,” Yuta said, and rubbed his shoulder.

Taeyong nodded some more and they went down the steps back into the courtyard. It appeared that people were beginning to sit down for dinner. They spotted Mark and Hyuck sitting on the other side of the courtyard, at a table near the corner. Hyuck, sipping on his wine, saw them coming and tapped Mark’s shoulder.

“Oh my fuck. _Mark Lee?_ ” Yuta said when Mark held up the wallet with a smirk.

“He had it the whole time,” Hyuck said and clapped his hands like a kid at the mention of ice cream.

Taeyong tried to fake surprise, dealt Mark a good slap on the side of the head, and snatched the wallet back. Mark gave him a look.

“I’m starting to feel nervous about this little liaison,” said Yuta, waggling a finger at Mark and Hyuck. “This is some kind of double trouble or something.” He pulled out the chair next to Hyuck and began to sit down, but Hyuck stopped him.

“Ah, ah, ah. The seats are _assigned_ ,” said Hyuck. “Can you read?”

“What? Oh,” Yuta said, squinting at the tiny name cards sitting atop the plates.

“You’re two seats down, Nayu.” Hyuck looked up at Taeyong and patted the seat Yuta had tried to sit down in. “Korea’s Visual, you’re with me. _OW!_ ”

“TAEYONG IS MORE THAN HIS FACE,” said Yuta, who had kicked Hyuck’s ankle.

“So am I, but you don’t see Mark jumping people for calling me hot, now do you?” Hyuck said, rubbing his ankle woundedly.

“I might,” said Mark offhandedly.

All three of them looked at him.

“Like…depending on the situation,” said Mark, reddening. “If there were some…if someone made you _uncomfortable_ …”

“Uncomfortable? Who’s uncomfortable?” said Ten, appearing behind them with Kun. He tugged at his tie. “I’ll give you guys a hint. It’s me. This suit is stiff as sheet rock.”

“Looks fantastic, though, if it’s any consolation,” said Kun, and Ten smiled at him a little shyly. Hyuck bit down on his lips like he was restraining himself from commenting.

“Are you guys with us?” said Taeyong.

Ten put his hands on Yuta’s shoulders and rubbed them gently. “Sadly, no. We’re over there with Sinbi and Yuju. We just wanted to see how you guys were doing. Taeyong, are you enjoying your night, sweetheart?”

“Oh, god, yes. This is so much more amazing than any wedding I’ve ever been to,” Taeyong said.

“Yeah?” Ten’s smile was mischievous. “How’s this date of yours treating you?”

Taeyong opened his mouth but Yuta spoke before him. “Everyone keeps assuming we’re actually dating.”

“Haha,” said Taeyong.

“Oops. My bad,” said Kun.

“No, no, not just you,” said Yuta. “My friends from beauty school, the friends of my friends from beauty school. And I bet whoever sits down there,” he said, pointing at the five empty seats around the other side of the table, “is going to think we’re boyfriends too.”

Hyuck put his chin in his hands. “What are you gonna do about it? Hang signs that say ‘ _We’re just friends’_ around your necks?”

“That or just go with it,” said Yuta.

Taeyong barely had time to process the remark before his phone buzzed in his pocket. He dug it out to find a new text from Mark. “ _did u find the letter tho_ ”

He looked out the corner of his eye past Hyuck at Mark, who raised an eyebrow. Taeyong shook his head slightly. A sympathetic grimace crossed Mark’s face.

As Ten said something about Yuta and Taeyong being the only single gays at the wedding, Taeyong noticed a woman in pants and a black dress shirt approaching the table. Her hair was cropped short over an undercut. She raised a hand at them and said, “Are these seats still…?” as she bent to read the nameplate at the nearest place at the table. “Ah!” she said. She turned around, cupped her hands around her mouth and called out in English, “Hey Wendy! We’re over here!”

“Oh my god. _Amber?_ ” Ten said, also in English.

She did a double take. “What! Ten!”

“No way!” Ten said, and ran around the table to hug her. They were speaking excitedly, too fast for Taeyong to understand. A photographer knelt on the ground nearby to snap pictures.

“Holy shit, Ten’s trilingual?” Taeyong asked.

“I didn’t know this either,” said Yuta.

“He knows some Chinese too,” Kun put in, with no little pride.

“Kun, come here,” said Ten in English, and then switched back to Korean. “This is my friend Amber, guys. We used to dance in a crew in Busan together, like, _years_ ago. Amber, I can’t believe you know Joohyun.”

“God, yeah, she’s like a little sister to me,” said Amber. She looked over her shoulder at four other girls weaving between tables, and beckoned. “It’s weird to hear people call her Joohyun, though. I always called her by her English name growing up.”

“Irene, right?” said Ten.

“Yeah, exactly.”

One of the girls coming up behind Amber studied the nameplates. “Oh, it does say our names. Joy, you’re here.”

“Ten, guys, this is my partner Luna,” Amber said, reaching for a woman in a black halter dress, “and three of our adopted daughters. Lu, you know how I danced with SM Crew when I still lived in Busan? Ten was on SM Crew too.”

“No shit! You know Irene?” said Luna as the women took their seats.

Ten shook his head. “Not really. We go to cosmetic school with Seulgi,” he said, gesturing at the boys, and then paused. “Well, not Kun, and not Taeyong or Mark, but…”

Luna and Amber gave puzzled smiles at the sound of the unfamiliar names. Ten laughed and introduced the boys one by one, pointing each of them out by name. “Hyuck and Yuta are the ones who go to school with me and Seulgi.”

“Yeah. Mark and Taeyong are just here to look pretty,” Hyuck said.

Taeyong glanced at Mark, expecting to share an eye roll, but Mark was just smiling at Hyuck dumbly. Taeyong rolled his eyes by himself.

“Yeah, so these are our kids,” Amber said, and pointed next to her at an absurdly beautiful girl in a sequined rainbow dress with hair falling in glossy waves down her back. “That’s Joy,” Amber said, “and Wendy,” she continued and pointed at a smiling girl in a nude jumpsuit, “and that’s Yerim,” pointing to the girl next to Yuta, whose hair was tied up in two tiny buns like a cute alien.

They exchanged waves and “Nice to meet you”s. While the others began to discuss when Seulgi and Joohyun would be finished with the private post-wedding ceremony and dinner would be served, Taeyong turned around in his chair, gazing around the lively courtyard. The sky above them now looked inky blue and endless. The only light came from the bulbs strung overhead and the candles floating on water amid yellow rose petals in the low glass vases at the center of each table. Taeyong spotted Changmin and Chanhee in their white suits carrying on at the bar. They were going back and forth intensely, and Taeyong thought they were arguing until Changmin’s face lit up and he began clapping wildly as Chanhee threw his arms out and an ecstatic hug followed. Taeyong wondered where his letter had ended up. It was probably still in the backseat of the cab, getting sat on by drunk college students in Sinchon or stepped on and muddied by a couple going on a date night in Hongdae. He could still remember every word, the same way he remembered every lyric to all the songs he’d ever written.

Could he tell Yuta what the letter said here, now, in person? Could he just reel off the words like Seulgi had reeled off her vows? No, he’d never be able to express himself like Seulgi. She was so bright and warm. Taeyong would stumble and freeze. What about a simple confession, just five words, “I’m in love with you,” over in a second like diving into a cold pool? He wanted to, he wanted to tell Yuta, god, he wanted Yuta to _know_. He wanted to Yuta to know how special he was. That he deserved every last breath of happiness the world had to offer, that he deserved to love and be loved. But how could he let him know? When? Where? Yuta’s arms were crossed as he and Joy talked about the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, and Taeyong realized he was still wearing Yuta’s jacket. Taeyong placed it back around Yuta’s shoulders. Yuta paused, smiling at him.

Maybe he could get him alone…wander back through the open-air halls of the villa, or sit upstairs in the empty chairs together.

A few minutes later Seulgi and Joohyun finally came out, arms linked while their free hands waved at the whistling crowd, and sat down at a table at the front. Ten and Kun went back to their own table and the food came out—heaps of beef and soup and rice, noodles and seafood, watermelon and pineapple and kimchi. After they worked their way through dinner, Joy was summoned to the front to catch the bouquet toss, and Seulgi and Joohyun posed for pictures making the first slice into the cake.

Taeyong finished his glass of wine and stood up as the cake was being cut. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he announced.

“Okay,” said Yuta.

“Have fun,” said Hyuck.

Taeyong looked at Yuta, steeled his nerves, and said, “Want to come?”

“Nah, I don’t have to go,” said Yuta.

Taeyong put his hands on his hips. “Are you sure?”

Yuta gave him a weird look. “Pretty sure, yeah.”

“He—Taeyong doesn’t like going to the bathroom alone, though,” Mark said suddenly, leaning forward.

Taeyong winced. Yuta and Hyuck looked at Mark with confused smile-frowns.

“Oh my god, neither do I,” said Yerim.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll be right back,” Taeyong said. “Uh, I’m gonna get another drink on the way back, does anyone want something?”

“Me!” said Hyuck.

“I want ginger ale,” said Yuta.

“Can you bring some tequila shots?” said Yerim.

“Yeri, you can’t ask the man for tequila shots, he only has two hands,” said Wendy.

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Taeyong and pushed in his chair.

He went back up the stairs and through the curtained entryway, jogging down the steps to the parking lot with his phone flashlight on, just in case. No letter. As he slowly made his way back up, Mark texted him.

_are u ok? do u need help looking for the letter?_

_it’s gone,_ Taeyong replied, passing the dais and tripping back down the stairway. _i don’t think i’m going to find it. thanks anyway._

_what are u gna do?_ Mark said.

Taeyong stepped up to the bar and asked for two glasses of wine, a glass of ginger ale and two tequila shots. The bartender cocked an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

_idk_ , Taeyong told Mark, _something_

_something?_ Mark sent. _like what_

The bartender said, “Here you go,” and handed the glasses over the bar to Taeyong, helping him arrange them between his fingers in the least precarious manner possible. Taeyong thanked him and focused on balancing the tumbler of ginger ale between the heels of his hands as he walked across the courtyard.

The cake had arrived by the time Taeyong got back to the table. A pristine slice, red velvet layered with stripes of buttercream frosting, sat waiting at Taeyong’s place. Hyuck’s plate, on the other hand, was already empty.

“Hey, you really got tequila shots!” said Yerim as Yuta reached to help Taeyong set down the drinks. “Thanks!”

Yuta passed the shots to Yerim and said, “Now the only question is who’s going to take the other one.”

“I volunteer the designated bouquet catcher,” said Luna, pushing the shot towards Joy.

Joy stuck her tongue out and said, “Tequila’s disgusting.”

“One, two, three,” said Yerim, and both of them knocked back the shots. Hyuck and Luna applauded.

“Fuck. Tequila’s DISGUSTING,” said Joy again, reaching for her water.

“Cake,” said Yerim, “cake,” and she stuffed a massive bite of cake down her throat.

“Seulgi and Joohyun should have asked Wendy to be the bouquet catcher,” Joy said, tucking her hair behind her ear and picking up her spoon again. “I can’t get married yet. Yerim is only 21 years old. That’s like zero.”

“Who said I would want to marry you even if I were grown,” said Yerim.

Joy made an appalled face and scooped into the cake, threatening to fling it at her.

“Oh, no, you don’t. You two are _not_ starting another food fight. Not tonight,” said Amber, reaching over Luna to grab Joy’s wrist.

“Besides,” said Yerim blithely, “Wendy couldn’t have been the bouquet catcher, she would have dropped it.”

Wendy laughed and clapped her hands.

Taeyong picked up his own spoon and went to try the cake, only to find a fat chunk missing from a corner of the slice. He looked closer at it. He could have sworn it had been a perfect triangle when he’d sat down.

“They almost skipped your place, but I asked for an extra piece for you,” said Yuta through a mouthful of cake. He chewed like a rabbit. “Do you like it?”

“I didn’t try it yet,” said Taeyong.

Yuta frowned, squinting at the corner with the missing bite. “You…?” Then he looked at Hyuck, who was avoiding eye contact and whistling.

“You hobgoblin!” said Yuta. “Stop eating Taeyongie’s food!”

“Who ate Taeyongie’s food? I didn’t eat any of Taeyongie’s food,” said Hyuck, referring to Taeyong informally the way Yuta had. Mark covered his eyes and laughed while Yuta pummeled Hyuck’s arm.

“Owie, owie, owie,” Hyuck whined, cowering into Mark’s side. Mark reached around Hyuck and tried to fend off Yuta’s fists.

“Okay,” said Taeyong, catching Yuta’s forearm in one hand, “that’s enough, my knight in shining armor.”

Yuta made a face and stopped swinging, putting his arm on the back of Taeyong’s chair instead. Hyuck, who had found himself comfortably situated between Mark’s arms, tentatively rested his head on Mark’s shoulder. Mark folded his arms around him and, trying not to smile, they both looked at Joy, who was gesturing at Taeyong and Yuta and saying, “Yerim, take notes. That’s what relationships are supposed to look like. You defend each other and save each other cake. Not steal each other’s clothes and eat each other’s leftover takeout.”

“We’re what relationships are supposed to look like?” Yuta said, grinning at Taeyong. “Interesting.”

“Interesting,” repeated Taeyong, waiting for Yuta to correct Joy. He didn’t, only looked back at him, like he was wondering if Taeyong would say something.

“For the record, he steals my clothes all the time,” Taeyong said, turning back to Joy and Yerim.

“I don’t eat his leftovers, though,” Yuta added on. “That’s pretty cold.”

“Okay, let me ask you this. How long have you been a couple? Because when you’re past the honeymoon phase, your S.O.’s leftovers start to look pretty fucking delicious, especially at 3am when you’re drunk,” said Yerim.

Taeyong and Yuta looked at each other. Yuta was barely containing the urge to laugh. “Nine…” Taeyong said, and Yuta nodded, finishing, “Nine years.”

“Ha!” yelled Hyuck.

“Nine _years?_ ” said Joy, Yerim and Wendy in unison.

“Holy shit, that’s longer than me and Amber,” said Luna.

“I haven’t even known I was a lesbian for nine years!” said Joy.

“How old were you when you met?” Amber asked them, hand clasped in Luna’s on the table.

Yuta removed his arm from the back of Taeyong’s chair. “Fifteen,” he said.

“ _Fifteen!_ ” said Yerim.

“Yep,” said Yuta. His beauty flickered in the candlelight. “Loved this boy since I was fifteen.”

Taeyong’s tummy fluttered rather violently. His face was on fire. He looked down at his cake.

“That’s literally insane,” said Yerim.

Joy said, “High school sweethearts. They should have made one of _you_ catch the bouquet.”

“Oh boy, photo op,” said Amber. Taeyong and Yuta turned to see a photographer kneeling behind them.

“Do a cute couple pose,” said Luna.

“No, kiss!” Yerim said.

Yuta’s eyebrows shot up and he looked at Yerim.

“Yeah! Kiss! And make it really gay!” said Joy.

“Do it for posterity. Seulgi said she wanted this to be the gayest night of the year,” said Wendy.

“I think it already is…” said Mark, but no one listened to him.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Yerim chanted, and Joy joined her. “Kiss! Kiss!”

The camera shuttered a few times. Yuta was laughing, softly, hushed giggles that sounded like bells or chimes. Taeyong turned to him. Their faces were close. _Maybe I can make him understand,_ Taeyong thought, _like this._

Taeyong reached up and put his hands on either side of Yuta’s face. Yuta looked at him and stopped laughing.

Joy and Yerim quieted. Someone snickered. Yuta was wide-eyed and motionless. Taeyong’s heartbeat was so loud in his ears it was all he could hear, but he couldn’t stop now. He smiled, hesitantly, and leaned his face closer to Yuta’s—first a centimeter, then an inch, until only a breath remained between them. He felt Yuta’s fingers close around his wrist and tried to meet Yuta’s eyes, but their faces were too close.

“Tae,” Yuta breathed, so quietly that Taeyong didn’t hear the word so much as feel it on his lips.

Taeyong kissed him lightly, as lightly as he could, just barely brushing over Yuta’s bottom lip. He thought that would be enough. It had to be.

When Yuta’s face tilted upwards into the kiss and he caught Taeyong’s mouth in his own, Taeyong realized it wasn’t enough. Nothing could be enough, no single touch could ever be enough, not when Yuta was kissing him like this, not when Yuta felt like this, tasted like this. Like their lips meeting and meeting again was the catalyst for the creation of a new color, one that nobody had ever seen before, and it was filling them up, and surrounding them, and painting the entire world in shades of each other.

Taeyong didn’t forget that new color, the taste of it, the ocean’s breadth of it, even when Yuta pulled away. He held onto the memory of it even as he lowered his hands from Yuta’s cheeks.

For several moments they stared at each other. Yuta’s lips were still parted, his chest rising and falling. Taeyong felt like he couldn’t move. Yuta’s eyes darted back and forth between his.

“Let’s place bets now. I say they’ll be married by 2020. Anybody?” Yerim said.

Hyuck said very quietly, “What theee, fuuuuck,” and Mark whispered something inaudible to him.

“I have to go um…” Yuta stood up from his chair, breaking eye contact. Taeyong made a futile grab for his hand but he was walking away. “I have to go to the…”

“Yuta?” said Taeyong, but he was out of earshot, making his way between tables and around the fountain at the center. The photographer was gone. Mark and Hyuck were staring at Taeyong with mirror expressions of shock.

“What did he say?” said Joy.

“He said he had to go somewhere,” said Amber.

Taeyong’s mind was blank. He could still feel the ghost of Yuta’s lips against his, and the sensation made him feel like there were electric currents running over his skin. He reached for his icewater.

“Well, anyway, Seulgi would have approved of that kiss. I bet it’ll come out great in the wedding photos,” said Yerim.

Taeyong got up, wobbly on his knees. He gripped the back of his chair.

“Hey, are you okay?” said Joy.

“Yeah,” said Taeyong. “I uh, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” said Mark.

Taeyong stopped, and Hyuck sat up straight in his chair to let Mark reach behind him for Taeyong’s suit jacket. He handed it over to Taeyong. It was wrinkled and creased.

“Thanks, Markie,” said Taeyong and pulled the jacket back on over his shirt.

“Getting chilly out here, isn’t it?” Taeyong heard Luna say cheerfully as he followed the path Yuta had taken across the courtyard. Seulgi and Joohyun were at the front posing for pictures with family members. Taeyong caught Seulgi’s eye as he went by and she smiled at him, bright under the lights. He smiled back. Then he was out of the corona of photography lighting and climbing the dark steps.

_Oh my god. I kissed Yuta_ , Taeyong thought. _I fucking kissed him_.

His phone was vibrating. He took it out and set it to silent. The room at the top of the steps where the wedding had taken place was empty now—the staff must have packed up the chairs during dinner. The flowered dais still stood at the front, spectral in the darkness. Taeyong wasn’t sure why he thought he’d find Yuta here, especially when guests were obviously not supposed to be in this area anymore, and he wove back through the twisting hallways until he finally found a part of the villa that was lit by lanterns. The bathrooms were down the hall. He walked towards them and pushed open the door to the men’s room.

Yuta was inside, head bowed over a sink. At the sound of the door opening he looked up and saw Taeyong in the mirror. He turned around.

Taeyong let the door fall shut behind him.

“What,” said Yuta, head shaking back and forth a little, “what—what was that?”

Taeyong couldn’t think. He absolutely could not think. Everything was slipping through his fingers and there was nothing he could do to stop it. “Are you angry?”

Yuta swallowed, folded his arms, and rested his hip against the counter. “Am I _angry?_ ”

Taeyong stared back at him. He was immobilized under Yuta’s gaze.

Yuta took a breath and looked down at the sink, bracing one hand on the edge of it. When he spoke his voice was low, but steady. “That wasn’t fair of you,” he said.

It was over, Taeyong realized. It was all over.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Yuta stared at the lip of the sink where his thumb was tracing a path back and forth along the smooth black stone. After several seconds of silence he said, “It’s okay.”

Taeyong’s throat was thick. “It’s okay?”

Yuta nodded, smiled, and finally looked at Taeyong again. “Yeah. I forgive you or whatever.”

_He forgives me_ , Taeyong thought. He felt his face distort.

“Hey,” said Yuta, “hey, hey, don’t…don’t make that face.” He stepped towards Taeyong and put a hand on his arm. “Taeyong, come on, it’s okay. I…God, don’t look so sad, I said it’s all right.”

In any other moment Taeyong would have reached for him, and Yuta would have hugged him, rubbed his back, cradled his head in his hand, anything to make Taeyong feel better. Instead they were standing here half a meter apart and Yuta had one hand on Taeyong’s elbow. Taeyong had made things weird. Oh god. He’d ruined it. He’d ruined the one perfect thing he had.

“Okay,” he heard himself say, “thanks.”

Yuta was quiet for a moment. Then he dropped his hand from Taeyong’s arm. “Want to go back downstairs?”

“I think I want to go home,” Taeyong whispered.

Yuta took his phone out of his pocket. “Yeah. All this small talk is exhausting. And it’s already past eleven anyways. Uh, Ten and Sinbi were talking about going out in Seoul after the reception, do you want to skip it?”

“You can go,” said Taeyong. “I’m getting pretty tired.”

Yuta shook his head. “Nah. Let’s just go back to the apartment.”

Yuta called the cab and they took the shorter way back to the reception, where people had gotten up and were dancing to music playing over the loudspeakers. Mark and Hyuck were the only people still at their table, sitting with their heads bent together, talking seriously. They looked up like deer in the headlights when Yuta and Taeyong arrived. Yuta and Taeyong managed to convince them to stay longer with Ten and hugged them goodnight, ignoring their questioning glances.

Taeyong went through the motions of the goodbyes that followed, repeating his “It was nice to meet you”s and “It was great to see you”s. By the time Yuta turned to him and said, “Let’s say hi to Seulgi before we go,” Taeyong was on full autopilot. He reinforced his smile so he didn’t look like a robot.

Seulgi and Joohyun had finally finished taking pictures with their relatives and were sitting in their chairs, knees together. Joohyun was holding a half-full flute of champagne in one hand and Seulgi’s shoulder in the other. They looked so happy.

“Yuta!” Seulgi said when she saw them, leaping out of her chair to hug him. Joohyun stood up with an airy smile, white nails tapping at the glass in her hands.

“Congratulations, gorgeous,” said Yuta, holding Seulgi tight. Her smile really was remarkable. Taeyong tried to mimic it.

“Sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk to you earlier,” said Yuta.

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it for a second. We’ve been way caught up. Photos and dinner and the cake and this and that, oh god. Joohyun, this is Yuta. From beauty school,” Seulgi said to Joohyun, arms still slung around Yuta’s waist, and Joohyun nodded with a smile.

“Yeah. We met,” said Joohyun.

“A few times, I think,” said Yuta.

Seulgi laughed as Yuta gave Joohyun a light congratulations hug. “Ah, sorry,” Seulgi said. “I can’t keep track of who you know and who you don’t.”

“Hey, I want you to meet someone,” said Yuta, and beckoned to Taeyong. “This is my best friend Taeyong.”

Yuta hadn’t introduced Taeyong as his friend once, until now. Taeyong wanted to go home so bad. He didn’t know if he could take another L tonight.

“Congratulations,” he said, “this is the most beautiful wedding in the history of, like, anything.”

Seulgi said, “Oh my god, you know, I _thought_ you were you. Like, I thought you might be Taeyong. You’re just like Yuta described you.”

Yuta smiled towards Taeyong, without really looking him the eye. Taeyong said, “Aw. How’s that?”

Seulgi clasped her hands together in front of her and beamed. “Lovely.”

Taeyong didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say.

Yuta said, “Well, we have to get going now. But thanks for inviting us. And big congratulations.”

“No, thank you for coming. I hope you guys had fun,” said Seulgi earnestly, and behind her Joohyun nodded.

“It was amazing,” said Yuta. “It was great. Right, Tae?”

“Yes,” said Taeyong.

Seulgi fluttered to give them hugs again and as they turned to go, Taeyong felt Joohyun’s hand on his arm. He looked up. Her mouth was half open, as if she were about to say something.

“Tae?” said Yuta, looking over his shoulder.

Joohyun shut her mouth, rubbed Taeyong’s arm and smiled. “Thank you for coming,” she said.

Taeyong nodded and they left the courtyard. Seulgi waved at them until they couldn’t see her anymore. Joohyun watched them go with a soft smile.

The ride home was silent. To staunch Mark’s “ _????”_ texts, Taeyong told him he would text him tomorrow, and promptly fell asleep in the back of the cab. Yuta murmured quiet words to wake him up when they were back at their apartment, and Taeyong struggled awake to follow him inside. He didn’t think about anything that had happened today. There would be no more thinking tonight. He’d think tomorrow morning.

While Max howled at Yuta for affection, Taeyong kicked off his shoes and beelined for his room. “Night,” he said, so tired he was barely standing at this point.

“Night,” said Yuta. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Thanks for bringing me,” said Taeyong.

Yuta nodded, stroking the bridge of Max’s nose. “See you tomorrow, Tae.”

“See you tomorrow,” Taeyong said, and closed the door.


	11. disarm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disarm / the civil wars

The only other time in the entire history of their friendship that Taeyong and Yuta had been at odds, that there had been a disconnect between them, was during their fight at the end of their last year of high school. Taeyong remembered it more clearly than he remembered what he did last week. It had only lasted half a day. At the time, he hadn’t even known what they were fighting about, only that it sucked.

They were eighteen. It had been a busy few months. A busy year, really, preparing to graduate and leave for college. By the end of the year everyone was exhausted, but exam week still stretched ahead. Taeyong spent most of that week holed up in his room, studying and doing his best to ignore texts from Yuta and Johnny.

“Our last week of high school,” Johnny had said at lunch, “our last week to live it up as kids before we have to go out into the adult world, and all you’re doing is studying.”

“Number one, we’re not going into the adult world, we’re going to college,” said Taeyong. “We can do all the partying we want there. Plus we have all summer to do whatever.”

“Yeah, but everything’s going to be different after this week is over,” said Yuta.

“What’s changing?” said Taeyong. “The three of us are all going to the same college. Jaehyun and Mark will be kind of far, but they can drive up on weekends. We’ll all still be together.”

Yuta picked at his rice moodily. Yuta had been weird for a little while—not listening when Taeyong was speaking one second, then turning around and wrapping him up in a bone-splintering hug the next. When Taeyong asked what was wrong, Yuta had said he was just emotional about high school ending.

Taeyong bought Yuta a green tea scented candle whose label claimed that its aroma was “calming” and “rejuvenating.” Yuta smiled, thanked him and took it home.

A few days later, the night before the last exam of his high school career, Taeyong received a barrage of messages from Yuta and Johnny telling him to come over. “ _we miss you loser.” “johnny’s house is boring can u get over here._ ” The same thing had happened almost every night that week. Taeyong texted, “ _ily but no_ ” and turned his phone over.

He stayed up so late studying that he overslept the next morning. Sprinting to brush his teeth, he got a new text from Yuta: “ _are u here yet i have something to give u hehe_ ”

“ _no i woke up so late, i probably won’t make homeroom_ ,” answered Taeyong.

The reply came in as Taeyong was downing orange juice and feeling for his jacket in the closet: “ _oh_ ”

Shortly after, his phone buzzed again. “ _np i’ll see u at lunch_ ”

“ _k!_ ” sent Taeyong. Walking out the door he typed, “ _do you like your candle?_ ”

“ _heck yes it is both calming and rejuvenating_ ,” Yuta said. “ _good luck on the calculus exam btw_ ”

“ _thanks good luck on bio_ _< 3_”

The exam wasn’t until the afternoon, and when Taeyong finally made it to school, his first class was well into a movie. He settled into his seat and looked at his notes beneath his desk. By the time Johnny texted to meet him at his locker later that morning, he was getting pretty nervous.

“What is it? I have to keep studying,” said Taeyong, panting as he stopped next to Johnny.

Johnny looked at him. “Damn. Exams aren’t a marathon, Taeyong, catch your breath a second.”

“It’s so typical that my hardest exam is last. I have all the luck.”

“Relax. You’ll be fine. You’ve been doing nothing but studying for the last like hundred years.” Johnny was rooting around in his locker. A few crinkled sheets of paper floated out from the mess of books and folders inside. “Yuta wanted me to give you something. He said he thought it might cheer you up before your first exam…”

“Did you see him already today?”

“Yeah, before school.” Johnny pulled out a thick manila envelope. “Was this it? Yeah, this was it.”

“What’s in it?” Taeyong asked as Johnny handed the envelope over.

Johnny shrugged. “No idea.”

“Hm,” said Taeyong, shaking it.

“I have to go to History. See you at lunch?”

“Yeah, see you,” said Taeyong, and turned to walk to class. He tore open the top of the envelope and peered inside. Students jostled him on either side. Taeyong reached into the envelope and pulled out a thick packet of…what were these? Face masks?

Face masks. Huh. Taeyong didn’t usually use face masks. He shuffled through them. There were six— _Firming, Brightening, Refining, Calming, Moisturizing, Rejuvenating_. He smiled. Calming and rejuvenating. He stuffed the packet away into his backpack and stepped into class.

When class let out for lunch, Taeyong went to his locker to get his food. As he opened the locker door, he saw Yuta down the hall. He waved. Yuta waved back. “ _Come here_ ,” Taeyong mouthed, and Yuta nodded. He had that weird look on his face again.

“Are you okay?” Taeyong asked as Yuta stopped next to him.

“Huh?” said Yuta.

“Are you all right? You’re kind of…”

“I mean, yeah, I’m all right,” Yuta said. His eyes flickered over the other students passing down the hall.

Taeyong searched his face. “Did the exam go okay?”

Yuta shrugged. “Yeah, whatever. Did yours?”

“It’s not till after lunch.” Taeyong pulled his lunch out of his locker.

“Oh yeah.”

“Wanna go find Johnny?” said Taeyong.

“Oh, um…” Yuta cleared his throat. “Did he give you that thing earlier?”

“Oh yeah,” Taeyong said, and laughed. “Sorry, I forgot to say thank you. That was cute. I liked it a lot.”

“It was cute,” repeated Yuta.

“Yeah. Thanks,” said Taeyong.

Yuta looked around. “That’s it? That’s…that’s all you’re going to say?”

“Um…” Taeyong tried to make eye contact with Yuta, but Yuta was staring down the hall. “It was very calming and rejuvenating before my exam,” he said, hoping to elicit a smile.

Finally Yuta looked him in the eye. “So this is all a big joke to you, basically.”

Taeyong blinked several times. “What?”

“We have, like, three days left of high school,” Yuta said, “and we haven’t seen you in weeks, and you ignore our texts and say you can’t hang out because you have to ‘ _study,_ ’ the year is ending and you’re literally just MIA and you—I _told_ you how I felt and you’re just acting like it’s—like it’s no big deal or something—”

Taeyong was shocked. “Yuta—”

“Do you just not care? Is that it?” Taeyong had never seen Yuta like this. His face was flushed and his eyes were watery, but his voice was cutting. “Is this your way of—of—distancing yourself? Moving on to bigger and better things? We’ll get to college and you’ll drop us, make some new friends? You don’t need us anymore?”

Taeyong blinked back tears. “What are you—I would _never_ —”

“Well I get the message, okay? Sorry for, for, fuck, sorry for wasting your time,” said Yuta and he shoved past Taeyong and pushed into the throng of students.

“Yuta? Yuta!” Taeyong slammed his locker shut and dove into the crowd after Yuta, but he couldn’t see him amid the crowd. He only saw Johnny, a head taller than everyone else, coming down the hall in the opposite direction.

“Hey, are you—”

Taeyong let out a sob and threw his arms around Johnny.

“Taeyong? What happened?”

“I have no idea,” bawled Taeyong.

“You have no—”

“Yuta’s mad at me—he said I—I don’t care about you guys and—I was going to drop you when we got to college and, and—”

“What the fuck?” Johnny held Taeyong’s shoulders and looked at him. “Why? Why did he say that?”

“I don’t know,” Taeyong gasped, tears streaming down his face. People were staring as they passed but Taeyong didn’t care.

“Where is he, where’d he go?”

Taeyong shook his head. “Opposite direction of the lunchroom…”

Johnny scratched his head. “Okay, well…let’s go eat and you can tell me what happened. Maybe he’ll be there in a few m—”

“No, no,” said Taeyong, turning around, “I have to look for him—”

“Taeyong, your exam is in like a half hour. You need food.” Johnny put a light hand on the small of Taeyong’s back. “It’s okay. We’ll get ahold of him. We’ll figure it out. Just give him a few minutes to get over himself or whatever and we can text him and he’ll come to lunch. Okay?”

Yuta didn’t come to lunch. He ignored Taeyong’s texts and calls as well of the majority of Johnny’s, only answering Johnny’s angry “ _yuta are you dead_ ” with “ _i’m fine just lma for a minute fuck_.” Taeyong bombed his exam, knew it even before he handed it in. Walking out of class, he sent Yuta one more text:

“ _yuta i’m sorry for everything. i should have listened to you when you said you were upset about school ending. i guess i’ve been so excited about graduating & about you me and john all being at college together i didn’t think it might be hard for you or sad idk. i was caught up in exams and graduation stuff when i should have been there for you. i’m sorry i didn’t spend more time with you & that i didn’t take the time to talk with you about it. but like i would never ever ever drop you or cut you out or forget about you ever. you’re the most important person in the world to me and i love you. change can be scary but you’ll always always have me, please say we’re ok_”

Barely an instant after Taeyong sent the text, he received one from Yuta that said, “ _hey i’m sorry i yelled at u i like way overreacted bc i missed u and everything’s weird lately bc of graduation nd stuff but u rly didn’t have to say anything idk what i expected u to say lol i’m sorry i said all that mean shit ig i’m just scared of losing u or smth idfk_ ”

A few seconds later—“ _we both sent those texts at the same time lmao telepathic_ ”

Taeyong didn’t wait another second to call him. The last bell rang as Yuta was picking up.

“Taeyong?”

“Losing me? Why would you be scared of losing me? I’m right here. Where are you?”

Yuta laughed softly. “I’m right here. Where are you?”

“I’m going outside to the front steps. Yuta—how could you think I would ever _drop_ you—”

“I’m sorry, Tae, I’m sorry. That was a shitty thing to say. I’m really sorry.”

“But do you actually believe that I would do that? Ever? In a hundred million years?”

“No. Not really. I was just…” Yuta sighed.

Taeyong hoisted himself up onto the thick concrete railing as students poured down the front steps and into the sun. “Because if you said that, then I feel like…some part of you thinks…”

“No, no, I just felt like I haven’t seen you as much over the past, like, month or two and with, you know, everything…I just started to feel like you were getting distant or whatever and I freaked out. I know you weren’t doing it on purpose. I know you were studying.”

“I _wanted_ to hang out with you guys,” said Taeyong. “I just—I wanted to get through exams so we could have the summer together and—”

“I know. I know.”

“Well,” said Taeyong, and took a breath. It was warm outside, but not hot. The sky was clear and shiny as glass. “You never have to be afraid of…of us growing apart or losing touch. Ever. We’ll always be together, okay?”

For a moment there was silence on the other end, and then a muffled sound.

“I love you,” said Taeyong. “You’re my best friend.”

“Okay,” said Yuta.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Taeyong kicked his feet. “Are you coming outside?”

“Uh huh.”

“When?”

“Right…now,” said Yuta.

Taeyong looked up at the open front doors of the school. Yuta appeared and started down the steps, looking around. When he saw Taeyong, he smiled. Taeyong breathed out in relief. That smile. It made the sky blue again.

Taeyong leapt off the banister and into Yuta’s open arms.

_“so basically my heart is dead_ ”

Taeyong hit send, put his phone down, covered his face with his pillow and screamed.

It was past three the day after the wedding. Taeyong hadn’t come out of his room and he hadn’t heard Yuta moving around outside. The only reason he knew Yuta was up, in fact, was because Max had started screeching for his breakfast at 8:47 and stopped at 8:50. So either Yuta had fed him, or Max had finally dropped dead of hunger as he had been nonverbally threatening to do for years. And Taeyong didn’t care either way, because seconds after he’d woken up this morning, he’d remembered that he’d lost his mind and kissed Yuta last night, he’d _kissed_ him, kissed Yuta, what was he _thinking?_ He wasn’t thinking, his brain had gone AWOL somewhere between losing the letter and trying the cake…but no, that wasn’t it either. All he’d _done_ last night was think. Searching for the perfect timing, the perfect way to show Yuta how he felt. He’d gotten caught up in it. Everything was too dreamy, the lights were too pretty, the night was too deep, everyone was too in love. It had made the moment seem perfect, but it wasn’t.

His phone vibrated. “ _oh my god dude_ ,” Mark had texted back.

He’d told Mark what Yuta had said in the bathroom. “That wasn’t fair of you.” Of course it wasn’t. No one kisses their best friend out of nowhere, without asking, in front of a bunch of near-strangers. Taeyong was a jerk, basically. And Yuta…Yuta. He’d said, “It’s okay.” He’d forgiven him.

Which was fine. Great. Because now Taeyong could move on. Right?

He didn’t feel like he could.

But that was now. If he gave himself a few weeks, months…years, if he needed them…then eventually he’d stop loving Yuta. At some point. Probably.

Not yet though, apparently.

“ _i’m never leaving this room again_ ,” Taeyong texted Mark.

“ _he’s not still mad at u tho right? like ur good now?_ ” Mark replied.

Taeyong pressed his cheek into the pillow. “ _he said he’s not mad but idk mark i think i made things really weird like i think i FUCKED things up cause i’m a fuCKING DUMBASS_ ”

Mark said, “ _what was weird today_ ”

“ _i haven’t seen him today_ ”

“ _wtf u live with him_ ”

Taeyong kicked his covers to the bottom of the bed. “ _i’m a HERMIT okay leave me alone_ ”

Mark didn’t reply for a few minutes. Taeyong opened a game on his phone to distract himself from the queasy ache throughout his torso.

Then Mark said, _“i’m still confused why he was mad tho”_

Taeyong said, _“????? because i KISSED him??? WITHOUT even getting permission or anything i hate myself.”_

_“yong omg can u not be so hard on urself like i get ur point, i do, but u gave him like a good 10 second window to stop u or pull away or wtv and he?? didn’t? also what do u call him kissing u back”_

Kissing him back. Kissing him back? Was that what that had been? No. Taeyong couldn’t think about that. “ _he was just playing along with the whole boyfriends act,_ ” he replied, then put his phone facedown on the bed and looked at his window, where a low shard of sunlight peered in under the blinds. He focused his eyes on that bright sliver. He didn’t want to think back to the kiss itself. He was afraid to. Afraid that if he let himself remember the way it felt, he wouldn’t be able to let it go. Afraid, as he had been last night, that before this, he hadn’t even known what it felt like to want. To really, truly want. And he was afraid he’d never want anything that much ever again.

A deafening _BANG! BANG! BANG!_ on his bedroom door suddenly split his thoughts and he yelped, almost falling out of his loft bed. He grabbed for his phone and held it out in front of him like a shield.

“Tae?” It was Yuta.

At the sound of his voice, some stupid part of Taeyong’s heart spasmed and bled out a shower of sparks and fairy dust into him. _Oh, no, no, STOP IT, that’s supposed to stop now, this is not the time_ , Taeyong thought, and put his hands on his temples.

“Taaaaae. Are you in there?”

“Yeah,” he rasped.

“You’re not still sleeping, are you? It’s almost four o’clock in the afternoon. Have you eaten anything today?”

“I…” said Taeyong.

“Can I just bring you a yogurt or something,” said Yuta’s voice, a little quieter on the other side of the door.

Taeyong’s heart surged in spite of himself and he said, “No, no, just…come in, okay?”

The doorknob turned and Yuta poked his head in, looking up at Taeyong with a small smile. “Helluuu.”

And suddenly it was all coming back, and sensory details flooded him—the heat in Yuta’s cheeks under Taeyong’s palms, the smell of his hair, his skin, the taste of icing on his lips, the breathless desire, all of it cutting in at the sight of Yuta’s face and then fading abruptly.

“What are you doing in here?” Yuta said and stepped closer, putting his hands on the bedframe above his head.

Taeyong pulled his blankets up to his neck. He inhaled and exhaled. The wave of memory had subsided, but he felt like he’d been sucker punched.

“Are you—do you still feel weird about last night?” Yuta said, rocking on his heels a little. “I’m really not mad or anything.”

Taeyong muttered into his blankets, “I’m sorry.”

“Forget it, okay? Seriously.” Yuta bent down and rummaged in the pile of clothes under Taeyong’s loft bed. “If you’re going to, like, pout around and be guilty about it or something, then, fuck, I don’t want it. Just forget about it.”

Forget about it. Forget about it. Taeyong nodded.

“Because if I recall correctly,” Yuta said, rising with Taeyong’s fuzzy purple slippers in his hands, “you promised before you went to bed last night that I would see you tomorrow.” He patted the lump under the blanket where Taeyong’s toes were sticking up. “And it’s tomorrow now. So. Come down.”

At Yuta’s prodding, Taeyong kicked the covers up and poked his socked feet out from under them. Yuta stuffed Taeyong’s feet into the slippers, and said, “Okay. Now you are fully equipped to come to the kitchen and eat some food.”

What could he do when Yuta was smiling at him like that?

“Yeah, all right,” Taeyong said.

They sat quietly at the table while Taeyong chewed on some leftover fried chicken from two nights before. Yuta was drawing, with only a pencil and paper, something Taeyong hadn’t seen him do in a while. He had the paper propped up on a folder that was angled towards him, and Taeyong couldn’t see what the picture was.

He thought of when they used to sit at the flower shop and he would do homework while Yuta would draw. This didn’t feel like that, where the silence was comfortable. This silence felt hollow and prickly.

“Yuta,” he said.

“Hm?” said Yuta.

Taeyong, who had only said his name to fill the silence, cast around for something to say. Yuta looked at him.

“What did Sinbi mean,” Taeyong said, “about you wanting to switch gears…?”

Yuta put his hands behind his head. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’ve been…just thinking about what I want to do a lot. If beauty school is worth it and everything.”

Taeyong held back from saying, “Of course it’s worth it, what the hell are you talking about,” and instead hedged, “So…marketing?”

Yuta shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s an option.”

Taeyong put the half-eaten chicken wing down. “You didn’t mention that you were still…you were still…”

Yuta smiled a little and said, “Yeah, I just didn’t want to make you feel sad or something. I don’t know. You seemed so upset at the idea of me not, like, following my dreams.”

Taeyong wanted to knock him on the head. He was so _frustrating_. “Yuta, who cares if _I’m_ sad, I just want you to be able to talk to—”

“I care if you’re sad,” Yuta said frankly. His arms were folded.

Taeyong sighed, and Yuta looked away from him.

“Well, I just want you to know that I’m—you can talk to me about whatever, Yuta,” Taeyong said.

“I know, Tae.”

“Like if you want,” Taeyong said earnestly, “we can go through your options together, and make a list of pros and cons.”

Yuta tilted his head and studied the wood grain in the table. “I think this is more the kind of thing that you gotta decide on feeling,” he said.

Taeyong nodded seriously. “No, yeah, that makes sense. Do you want to talk about…how you feel about it…?”

Yuta tapped his pencil against the edge of the table. Then he said, “Maybe later. I’m not really, like, in the mood right now.”

“Okay. That’s okay,” said Taeyong.

“Let’s just watch TV,” Yuta went on, “or something.”

Taeyong nodded along. “Sure. Yeah.”

“What do you want to watch?”

“Anything you want,” Taeyong said. Yuta let out an exhale.

“Okay. I’ll find something,” said Yuta. He slipped his drawing inside the folder, went to the couch and turned on the television.

Taeyong got up to toss the rest of the chicken and wash off his plate and hands. Yuta was flicking through channels aimlessly. Max leapt up and stretched himself out as long as he could on Yuta’s armrest. Taeyong put the dishes on the drying rack and went to the couch, where he usually would sit down right next to Yuta, close enough for their knees to touch or for an elbow to rest comfortably on a shoulder. He hesitated. He wanted to be as close to Yuta as he could. But he wasn’t sure what Yuta would want. Maybe he would want space. He caught the eye of Egg Yuta, grimacing above the couch, and felt like the drawing was glaring at him.

“Wanna watch a Descendants of the Sun rerun?” Yuta said.

Taeyong, before his brain could overload and glitch out, sat down at the opposite end of the couch, which was nearest to where he had been standing but as far from Yuta as he could get. “Sure. I never saw the whole thing.”

“I think this is the episode where they meet the bad guy,” said Yuta, and looked across the couch at Taeyong.

“There’s a bad guy in Descendants of the Sun?” Taeyong said.

Yuta laughed, and Taeyong laughed too.

“Just watch,” said Yuta. Taeyong turned to look at the TV and tried not to think about how much he missed Yuta, how much he ached for him, even with Yuta only a meter away.


	12. i want to see you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quiero verte (i want to see you) / diana fuentes

And so things continued like that. Yuta went to school. Taeyong went to the dance studio and poured over his song, fruitlessly as always, putting down words that didn’t make any sense and crossing them out and trying to start with a melody line instead and only coming up with tunes he’d already heard. They listened to Hyuck and Mark talk about the movie they’d seen the week before, and went out to Rainbow Bar with Ten and Kun, and met up with Doyoung and Johnny at the new ice cream store near Doyoung’s house. And everything went on like normal.

Except of course that things were very _not_ normal, nothing was normal, Taeyong was constantly trying to ignore the fact that his heart was sort of broken and Yuta seemed perpetually just out of his reach. Where Taeyong had once felt like the south pole of a magnet drawing towards Yuta’s north, they suddenly seemed to be the same pole, unable to get too close without something out of their control forcing them apart. Yuta’s habit of reaching for him like a grabby kid had all but disappeared—had it been waning for a while before the wedding, or had it just vanished now?—and Taeyong, still feeling bruised and chemically unstable, was afraid to even touch fingertips with Yuta lest he explode on contact. While the lack of touchiness between them was a relief for Taeyong at first, he quickly started to miss it, yearn for it, crave it. He wasn’t sure if there was really an invisible buffer between them or if it was just in his head. When he told Mark that he felt like Yuta didn’t hug him much anymore, Mark said, “Nuh uh. He hugged you yesterday when we came to meet you at the studio.” And Taeyong shook his head, saying that was just a hello hug, not a real hug, and it wasn’t as long as usual, and Mark said, “I mean, I guess? It was still longer than the hugs you give me.” That made Taeyong feel very confused and sad and he threw his arms around Mark and held onto him tightly for several seconds, even after Mark said, “What? No, I didn’t mean—Taeyong, come on, I love you too, now get off. Agghh.”

Thankfully, neither Yuta nor Mark had told anyone about the kiss—and neither, it appeared, had Hyuck, as Ten didn’t seem to know—so there was no awkward prodding or questioning on the part of their friends about what had happened. What _was_ awkward was when Johnny, when they were all doing work over at Doyoung’s one night, said suddenly, “Taeyong, when can you take off work?”

“What?” said Taeyong.

“Just answer the question,” said Johnny.

“What do you mean, like, one day?”

Johnny tilted his head back and forth and said, “Well, preferably longer than that.”

“Why?” said Yuta, looking up from his laptop where he was going through job listings, much to Taeyong’s unvoiced dismay.

“Wait your turn,” said Johnny, and Yuta frowned in confusion at Doyoung, who shrugged while Jaehyun snickered.

Taeyong capped his pen. “I mean, I have ten days of paid leave a year, and two sick days, but I used one of those in January.”

“So you can take off whenever?” said Johnny.

“I guess, yeah? But I’m not going to soon, my students’ show is in barely two months. Johnny, what are you—”

“Yuta, what about you? When can you skip school? Or when do you have a break?”

Yuta shifted his computer off of his lap and got up. “We have a three-day weekend at the beginning of next month, why?”

“Hm. Okay. That works.” Johnny double-clicked and peered at his screen. “What dates?”

Jaehyun pointed at something on Johnny’s screen, and Johnny nodded with a chuckle. Yuta tried to look over Johnny’s shoulder, but Johnny picked up his laptop and held it out of Yuta’s view.

“Johnny, what are you doing?”

“Nothing. Is it the weekend of the 5th, or the 12th?”

Yuta tapped his foot for a second and then said, “The 4th to the 6th. Now can you tell us why? Are you planning a group camping trip or what?”

Doyoung snorted and said, “As if you’d ever catch me camping.”

Yuta turned to him openmouthed.

“Perfect,” said Johnny and thumped the spacebar on his laptop triumphantly. Jaehyun looked at it and laughed.

“Did you do it?” said Doyoung.

“Do _what?_ ” said Taeyong and Yuta simultaneously.

Johnny held out his computer, and Yuta squinted at it. Taeyong got up and crossed the room. “Nakamoto Yuta, Lee Taeyong, you’re both going on a three-night vacation to Jeju Island, courtesy of Hann Hotels, the first weekend of May,” Johnny said.

“What?” said Taeyong.

“Hann Hotels, like, the ones your dad owns?” said Yuta.

“ _Reservation successful,”_ read Johnny’s screen in fancy white script over a sweeping backdrop of rolling green hills with the gray-blue ocean yawning in the distance. _“May 3-6. Genevieve honeymoon suite. 85% employee/family discount applied. Confirmation email sent to johnsuhphotography11@gmail.com._ ”

“Johnny, what did you do,” said Taeyong, eyes darting over the words on the screen.

“An intervention,” said Doyoung from his chair across the room.

Yuta balked. Taeyong stood up.

“Intervention who?” said Yuta.

“Intervention you,” said Doyoung.

“You both need vacations. _Especially_ you,” said Johnny, pointing a finger at Taeyong. “Everyone agreed. Taeyong, you’re literally a ball of stress. You don’t sleep. You’re obsessed with your song but you never have anything to show for it.”

“Johnny, you need to shut the fuck—” said Yuta.

“And you, Yuta, you’ve been weird for like weeks, you’re constantly moping around, you’ve got this dumbfuck idea in your head that you’ve got to leave beauty school when it’s the one thing that’s made you the happiest for the past eight years—”

“Johnny!” said Taeyong, even though it was a relief to hear that it hadn’t all been in his head.

“You’re thinking it too, Yong,” Jaehyun said, and Taeyong glowered at him.

“Listen, fuckers,” Doyoung said. He was sitting forward with his fingers steepled. All four of them fell silent and looked at him.

“You two haven’t been yourselves,” said Doyoung, looking Taeyong and then Yuta in the eyes, “and none of us can figure out how long it’s been that way, but we’re sick of it. You’re going to go to Jeju Island and you’re going to leave all your work, your laptops, your notebooks and shit here, and you’re going to sort things out. Taeyong, you can consider it an early birthday present.”

“What, you guys are paying for all of this?” Taeyong said.

“It’s not even that much, Johnny’s dad’s discount is massive and we’re all splitting the rest,” said Jaehyun.

Yuta put out his hands and said, “Hang on, hold on. Who—who is this ‘ _we_ ’ that thinks we haven’t been ourselves? I’ve been perfectly—”

“You haven’t been perfectly anything. Has he, Taeyong?” said Jaehyun.

Taeyong said, “Don’t put me on the spot.”

Johnny had gotten up, placing the computer on the couch behind him, and was standing over Taeyong as if he could convince him just by showing off his height. “‘We,’ as in, me, Doyoung, Jaehyunnie, Mark Lee, Sicheng, T—”

“ _Mark_ was in on this?” said Taeyong.

“—Taeil and Lucas thought that you could both use a break, and since my dad lets me use his discount for seven days a year wherever in Korea I want—”

“Hell,” said Yuta, turning to Taeyong, “fine,” and Taeyong paused. Yuta looked worn-out. Resigned. Taeyong wanted to reach for him and kiss his tired eyelids. He gently hit Taeyong’s forearm with the back of his hand and said, “We’ll have fun. Right Tae?”

Taeyong rubbed his forearm. “Sure.”

“Sure? You guys should be falling onto your knees to thank us,” said Johnny, and Jaehyun high-fived him.

“What in god’s name possessed you to get us the honeymoon suite, though, Johnny,” said Yuta, taking another look at the reservation screen.

“What? Oh, the Genevieve suite, it’s my parents’ favorite room at the Jeju hotel. They give you free champagne and chocolate when you get there and everything. Plus there’s a massage at the hotel spa included.”

“Yeah, but how many beds are there?” said Yuta.

Johnny’s eyes widened a little, as if he hadn’t thought of this. “Oh…well, there’s one king sized bed, I think, but there’s a futon and a couch too, so…options?”

Yuta rolled his eyes and Taeyong willed himself not to scream.

“And I mean, the staff might think you’re a couple, but I can probably get my dad to let them know that you’re not,” Johnny went on.

“Okay,” said Yuta. He looked at Taeyong and laughed, shrugging a little. “We’ll manage.”

_You might, but I won’t_ , thought Taeyong.

“Thanks, guys,” said Yuta.

“You can thank us by de-stressing your stress ball selves,” said Doyoung, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and returning his attention to his laptop.

So now Taeyong, who was already anxious because he wasn’t able to write his song and because his love for Yuta felt like it was growing rather than diminishing even weeks after a decisive and unequivocal rejection, was now triply anxious because he’d have to share a hotel room and maybe even a bed with him for three straight nights, since Johnny had booked them for the night before Yuta’s three-day weekend began as well. Yuta and Taeyong bought flight tickets—the boys seemed to have forgotten that detail in planning the all-expenses-paid dream vacation for the two of them—and Taeyong hung onto every smile Yuta gave him, every little pat and nudge. Johnny had been right. Yuta was muted lately, and not just around Taeyong, but all the time. Taeyong knew, he just _knew_ that Yuta hated the idea of leaving beauty school, but he didn’t know how to say that without sounding unsupportive. So he didn’t say much of anything, and neither did Yuta.

When Mark texted him the next day, “ _yong i need ur help w smth_ ,” Taeyong lit into him.

“ _MARK LEE!! THE TRAITOR HIMSELF??”_ he sent, and then before Mark could reply, he added,  
_“EXPLAIN TO ME, IN 100 WORDS OR LESS, WHY YOU SIGNED OFF ON A PLAN TO SEND ME ON A ROMANTIC WEEKEND GETAWAY WITH THE BOY WHO JUST REJECTED ME 2 WEEKS AGO EVEN THOUGH YOU ARE THE ONLY PERSON WHO KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED AND COULD HAVE PUT AN END TO THIS ASSCRACKERY.”_

“ _traitor????_ ” Mark texted, and then said, “ _oh the jeju thing. u don’t wanna go?”_

_“YOU BET YOUR CUTE LITTLE MARK LEE ASS I DON’T WANNA GO”_

_“i will bet no such thing”_

_“mark WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP THEM like you KNEW THIS WOULD BE A BAD IDEA I DON’T UNDERSTAND”_

Taeyong was fuming so furiously that he didn’t remember until after sending this last message that Mark had texted him asking for help. Right away he felt awful and texted, _“omg wait what did you need help with i’m sorry love bug”_

Mark’s next text to come in said, “ _look i had reasons ok? damn_ ” and then he said a moment later, “ _oh lmao yeah that. how do u ask a boy to be ur bf_ ”

“ _what reasons???_ ” Taeyong said, and then, “ _WHAT_ ”

“ _ok so i’m texting hyuck and we were talking about his birthday bc it’s in like a month and a half_ ,” Mark said. He typed for a second and then the next text came in. “ _and i asked him what he wanted for his birthday, right, and he was all like whaaat u don’t have to get me smth :’’’’ and i was like no ofc i’m gonna get u smth_ ”

Taeyong, just to show he was listening, interjected, “ _y’all so cute imma barf_ ”

“ _and he was like aww none of my other friends ever get me anything for my bday, so now i’m like mf am i his friend?? or am is his boyfriend??_ ”

“ _omg ur so cute. well what do u want to be?_ ” asked Taeyong, and sent it at the same time that he received one more text from Mark: “ _oh yeah and i feel like u + yuta still have some shit to sort out between u and it’s not going to get aired unless ur forced to spend a lot of time in each other’s presence w nothing else to do”_

Taeyong wasn’t sure what to reply to this. He waited a few seconds and then all of a sudden, Mark was spamming him at lightning speed.

_“TAEY”_

_“TAEYONG I HIT TEH WRONG CHAT”_

_“TAEYONG I SENT THE WRONG CHAT”_

_“AHHHHHH”_

Taeyong replied, “ _what? what wrong chat_ ” and Mark texted back, “ _I’M TEXTING DONGHYUCK AND U AT THE SAME TIME AND I MF THOUGHT I WAS TEXTING YOU AND I TEXTED HIM_ ”

Taeyong slapped a hand over his mouth as an image came in and it loaded a screenshot of Mark’s conversation with a contact labeled only with the sun emoji.

“ _awww :3 none of my other friends get me things for my birthday!”_ read the message at the top, and Mark had replied, _“what?? noo u deserve the best! what’s on your wish list? aside from food_ ,” and they’d gone back and forth a few times until Mark had told Hyuck, “ _shut up u should always eat what u wanna eat”_ and below that there was another outgoing text that said, _“I WANT TO BE HIS BOYFRIEND TAEYONG I WANT TO BE DONGHYUCK’S GODDAMN BOYFRIEND_ ”

Taeyong couldn’t help but let out a gasp of laughter. Yuta wasn’t home yet, but Max, who had been napping on Taeyong’s leg, stirred and looked up at him critically.

“ _what did he say oh my god what did he say_ ,” Taeyong typed.

Mark’s answer came agonizingly slowly. Finally he sent another screenshot.

“ _u want to be WHOSE goddamn WHAT?_ ” read Donghyuck’s reply.

“ _oh,”_ Mark had texted, _“that text was meant for taeyong? obviously ig hsdfkhs_ ”

Hyuck had sent, “ _oooh…….”_ and then, _“well then we’re even now,”_ and when Mark asked what he meant, Hyuck said, “ _i mean perhaps that text was not meant for my eyes but ,, whatever i was ranting about that day at taeyong’s dance studio was not meant for ur ears so u + me = Even_ ”

Mark asked Taeyong if he should just ask Donghyuck to be his boyfriend now, so Taeyong told him to absolutely not do it over text, and that was the last he heard of the matter until he opened the door to a light rapping two days later and found Mark and Hyuck standing together in the hallway of the apartment building, each of them holding two smoothies in their hands with brilliant smiles on their faces.

“Hi!” said Mark.

“Hi,” said Taeyong.

“Where’s Nayu?” said Hyuck, skipping into the apartment as Taeyong held the door back.

“Kids?” said Yuta from the living room.

Mark, following Hyuck down the hall, turned around and walked backwards to face Taeyong while he held the two smoothies up next to his face and mouthed the words “ _I DID IT_.” Taeyong slapped his hands over his mouth.

“We brought you smoothies,” said Hyuck as they filed into the living room.

Yuta, who was sitting on the floor with one of his beauty school textbooks open in front of him, reached for one of the cups Hyuck was holding. “Thanks, munchkin.”

Taeyong took a smoothie out of Mark’s hand, sat down on the couch and sipped. Hyuck and Mark stood together in the middle of the room, glancing at each other out of the corner of their eyes and pressing their lips together like giddy schoolkids.

Yuta looked up at them with an eyebrow raised. “Y’all wanna sit down and study or something?”

“Ehh…no, we’re not—” said Hyuck, and giggled.

“Not staying for long,” Mark said.

“So you just came to bring us smoothies?” said Yuta suspiciously.

Taeyong made a _come on!_ face and lashed out at Mark’s kneecap with his socked foot.

“Uh, no,” said Mark.

“We have news!” Hyuck chirped.

Yuta’s eyes widened. He smiled like he thought he knew what they were about to say but wasn’t sure.

“It’s…” said Mark, and Hyuck looked at him and said, “We’re…” and Mark said, “We…” and finally Hyuck threw out his arms and said, “You two are in-laws now!”

Taeyong yelped and his hands flew up to cover his mouth again. Yuta, even as he was starting to laugh, squinted his eyes at Hyuck and said, “What the fuck does that mean, ‘ _in-laws_ ’?”

“Well…” Hyuck pointed between himself and Mark and said, “We’re officially a couple now, and Taeyong is Mark’s brother, and you’re my…dad, or whatever, point is! You’re family now!”

Mark giggled into his hand and shook his head while Yuta screamed, “I’m your _dad?_ ”

“Yuta! Focus! Officially a couple!” Hyuck said, and pointed from himself to Mark again.

Taeyong kicked his feet in the air and Yuta demanded when and where this development had taken place, so Mark and Hyuck, stopping every two words to look at each other and giggle, explained how Mark had told Hyuck to meet him at the playground down the street from his dorm and had appeared there with a guitar to serenade him. Mark sang a song by Hyuck’s favorite idol group, “Yes or Yes,” and said that Hyuck broke into the choreography immediately upon hearing the first verse, which Hyuck staunchly denied. Apparently Mark didn’t even get past the lines “ _Don’t know what you’ll choose, so I prepared these options: choose only one of the two, yes or yes!_ ” before Hyuck screamed, “Yes! Yes! The first one! Either one! I don’t care!”

“When did all this happen? Just now?” Yuta asked.

“No,” said Mark, “this morning.”

“Do you think the first thing we’d do is sprint straight over here and tell you guys? No,” said Hyuck. “We dropped Mark’s guitar off in his room and hung out there for a while, and then we ate lunch, then got smoothies and came here. We just wanted to alert you of your new civil status.”

“Taeyong and I can’t be in-laws, that’s weird,” grumbled Yuta.

Taeyong and Mark glanced at him, frowning. Hyuck said imperviously, “Sure, whatever, you can be our adopted parents or cool uncles, it’s just a joke. Anyway,” he said, sipping loudly on his nearly-empty smoothie and tossing himself on the couch, “I heard you guys were going on an island getaway soon.”

It occurred to Taeyong that months ago, all he had wanted was to be alone with Yuta somewhere far away, on a remote island or a place no one would bother them. Now that it was happening, it felt like a stroke of bad luck rather than good. He wondered suddenly if they were just going through a rough spot or if everything was falling apart. _No,_ he thought _. Yuta and I won’t fall apart. Things don’t work that way._

“We’re going on an island getaway soon,” Yuta agreed, with something like a sigh or a long exhale.

Mark sat down next to Hyuck, picked up his wrist, and yanked it around so Hyuck’s hand flopped from side to side as he spoke. “So you’re gonna go to Jeju and get your dose of nature?” Hyuck said, making a concentrated effort to ignore Mark.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You don’t even sound excited!” Hyuck said.

“I’m excited! I am! I’ll be on my mountain man shit,” said Yuta, looking down at his textbook, “and I get to be with Taeyongie.”

Taeyong breathed out in relief. Of course, he was being dramatic. Yuta was just…tired. Everything was going to be fine.

Hyuck and Mark left within ten minutes, swinging their hands between them and leaving their empty smoothie cups on Yuta and Taeyong’s kitchen counter. Taeyong got up to throw the cups away and Yuta said, “That was cute. Wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty much perfect together,” said Taeyong.

“Well, yeah, they are, but how fucking cute is it that they came all the way here just to tell us,” Yuta said, hugging his knees to him and flipping the page of his textbook. “They were so excited to see our reactions.”

Taeyong turned around. “Actually, yeah, that is cute.”

“Whose idea do you think it was?” said Yuta and looked up at him sunnily.

Taeyong smiled. That was a look he hadn’t seen on Yuta’s face in a while. He went to sit down in front of Yuta. “Bet it was Hyuck.”

Yuta laughed and said, “Yeah, probably.”

Taeyong bent one leg to tuck his knee under his chin and Yuta met his eyes, both legs folded into his chest, a near-mirror image.

“He really adores you,” Taeyong said.

Yuta looked back at him. “Well I really adore him.”

They were still for a moment. Taeyong had forgotten about Hyuck entirely and had the strangest feeling that they were talking not about him but about each other, until Yuta stretched his legs out and said, “Even if he is a little forest troll. He’s a good kid.”

“Oh, yeah. He is.” Taeyong coughed and scratched the back of his head.

“Anyway,” said Yuta, “I’m going to keep…keep studying,” and Taeyong nodded quickly.

“Yeah. Sure. Do you need help?”

Yuta shook his head. “It’s okay. You were writing.”

“Right. Yeah.” Taeyong stood up, stretched, and peeked at Yuta out of the corner of his eye. Yuta’s gaze was already focused on his textbook again.

“Yeah,” said Taeyong again, and picked his notebook up off the counter where he’d dropped it when he had gone to open the front door. He flipped it to the page he’d been working on. He had crossed out “ _only ever want what I can’t have_ ,” and then written and crossed out “ _want back what I never had_ ,” and a series of scribbled and Xed phrases followed. _What am I doing wrong?_ he thought. _Why can’t I get it right?_

“You okay?” Yuta said from the floor.

Taeyong jumped and said, “Yeah. Yeah. Thanks.”

“Tae,” said Yuta, “don’t…don’t think too hard. You look like you’re about to break your brain. Just write.”

It was good advice, but it was advice Taeyong wouldn’t be able to take, and they both knew it. Still, Taeyong sat down on the couch and said, “Okay. Thanks.”

Yuta nodded and returned to his book. Taeyong held the pen over the page without touching it down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! it's me again here with a long chapter warning! if you need some water (and don't we all?) you'll probably want to grab it now, because ch 13 is gonna be pretty chunky!


	13. heroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heroes / peter gabriel

Before they left to catch their flight to Jeju on May 3rd, Johnny and Doyoung made Taeyong and Yuta unpack their bags at Johnny’s house to prove that they weren’t bringing their books or laptops with them. Taeyong tried to sneak a miniature notebook in a secret pocket of his backpack, which, when Johnny discovered it, almost made Doyoung tear into him, but he and Yuta managed to talk them into letting him bring it by arguing that inspiration might strike at any second and it was better to have a notebook on hand, just in case, than be forced to turn to his iPhone notes.

“This trip is strictly detox,” Doyoung said, for the third time today, as he watched them repack their bags. “If I hear a single word about either of you even _thinking_ about trying to do work, you can pay me back for this trip yourselves.”

“Chill, we get it,” said Yuta, picking up a sweatshirt off the space on Johnny’s living room floor that they’d cleared and stuffing it back into his bag over his toothbrush and comb.

“I’m not worried about you so much, Yuta,” said Doyoung, turning a pointed look to Taeyong, who was placing a shirt atop a stack of other shirts.

“What, me?” said Taeyong, zipping up his backpack.

“Don’t worry, Doyo,” said Yuta, “I’ll keep on eye on him.” He grunted as he tried to jam a water bottle into his overflowing bag.

“Hey Taeyong, before I forget,” said Johnny, “go get the paper with the reservation information on it.”

“The reservation information?”

“It has all my info and my dad’s discount code on it. I don’t know if they’ll let you in your room without it,” said Johnny.

“Okay, where is it?”

“It’s in my room. I think it’s in the closet. Maybe on the shelves on the left.”

Taeyong stood up, leaving his backpack on the floor. “Do you care if I just go through your shit and look for it?”

Johnny shook his head and said, “Nah. Yuta, what are you doing with my Oreos?”

“Maybe they don’t have Oreos in Jeju Island. I’m just thinking ahead,” said Yuta as Taeyong left the living room to step into Johnny’s room.

The bedroom was as trashed as ever. Taeyong picked his way between a pile of jackets and a stack of Adventure Time DVDs to Johnny’s closet, which stood ajar.

He flicked on the light in front of the closet and said, “Fucking hell.” The floor was comparatively tidy, with only a few sneakers and a rubber boot out of place, but the shelves were in utter disarray. He pulled a few shreds of paper out of the mess on a shelf on the left and leafed through them—an electric bill from last August, a badly exposed photograph of Jaehyun on printer paper, an expired coupon for watermelons with the letters “ML” scrawled on the corner red marker. Taeyong let a sigh puff out his cheeks. If Johnny had printed this paper out weeks ago when he’d booked the room, it could be anywhere by now. Taeyong gritted his teeth and dug into the chaos.

Ten minutes later, he had rummaged through everything on the bottom three shelves and uncovered a few things he wished he hadn’t, including a sock whose heel was crusted with a mysterious green substance. Taeyong heard Yuta calling his name from the living room. “I can’t find it,” he shouted back as he reached up to the top shelf and heaved down a stack of books and papers.

Johnny poked his head into the room and said, “It’s definitely in the closet. I think in an envelope,” and disappeared again.

Taeyong continued to shuffle. A torn magazine clipping about synesthesia. A rubber-banded clump of six or seven Taeyeon photocards. And, underneath a pamphlet for a play their high school had put on in 2013, a broad manila envelope sealed and labeled “ _Taeyong—Yuta_ ” in Johnny’s terrible handwriting.

“Did you find it?” It was Yuta. He was peering around the closet door.

“I think so,” said Taeyong and held up the envelope.

Yuta looked at the envelope for a moment. “Huh,” he said. “Well, good, because the cab’s here.”

“Oh, shit,” said Taeyong and followed Yuta to the door.

Turning out of the bedroom, they collided with Johnny, who said, “Forget about the paper. I just told my dad to call—”

“Is this it? Johnny, is this it?” Taeyong waved the envelope at Johnny.

Johnny squinted at it. “That? Yeah. I think. Just take it with you. Guys, the cab is outside, go, go, go. I texted my dad so you don’t have to worry about the paper either way, it’s whatever, he’s going to call the hotel and tell them you’re on your way, so they’ll let you in when you get there.”

Taeyong shoved the envelope into the front pocket on his backpack and heaved it onto his shoulder. “You’ll play with Max for a few minutes every day, right? And no treats? Just dry food?”

“I got it, I got it, I have the whole four-paragraph email you sent me,” said Johnny, ushering them out the door. Taeyong gave Doyoung a too-tight hug and then let Johnny lift him up in an embrace and before he knew it, he and Yuta were on their way to the airport.

As they sat in traffic near the river, Yuta looked over at Taeyong and said, “So that envelope has the reservation stuff in it?”

Taeyong shrugged and nodded. He was starting to get antsy now that a whole weekend thinking about nothing but Yuta was stretching ahead of him. He didn’t like flying much—he’d only been on a plane twice before—and he spent most of the flight with his eyes shut tight and his earphones blasting Post Malone while Yuta peered out the window. Taeyong remembered when they’d flown to Busan together to meet up with Yuta’s parents and sisters after exams ended one year in college. Yuta had held his hand the whole ride. Taeyong opened his eyes and looked sideways. One of Yuta’s hands was gripping the rim of the window, and the other rested idly on his knee. He looked at it for a while and then the airplane hit a bump of turbulence and he squeezed his eyes shut again.

Thankfully, the flight was short, and the cab ride to the hotel even shorter. The sun was setting into a low wall of purple clouds when they made it to Jeju, and Taeyong could feel Yuta’s excitement rising to see the sideways beams of light falling over the green expanses littered with chunks of black volcanic rock. The hotel was perched on a cliff’s edge overlooking the ocean, and as they got out of the cab Yuta ran to a deck next to the parking lot to look out over the waves.

When Yuta saw Taeyong behind him, he threw his arms out and shouted over a wind that was whipping his hair in his face, “Pretty!”

It wasn’t as pretty as Yuta, of course. Especially with that smile. Incredible. “Oh my god,” said Taeyong, “we’re moving here.”

“What?”

“If it makes you this happy,” said Taeyong, and Yuta laughed.

“It does!” He turned around again, his arms still flung wide as if he could wrap up the ocean between them. Taeyong could already feel himself relaxing. He gazed out at the ocean, which was slate blue underneath them and glittered with little shards of gold further out where the sun’s light still reached. The hotel itself was smaller than he’d expected—the one in Seoul, which Taeyong had seen once in middle school, was colossal compared to this—but it looked nice, its broad windows reflecting the sunset prettily. Down past the deck and through a wrought iron fence, he could see the edge of a pool that extended out of view behind the hotel. There was no one in it, probably because it was still on the cool side of May, but it looked wonderful.

Taeyong saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head to find Yuta standing in front of him with his phone out. The focused look on Yuta’s face broke into disappointment and he groaned, “Tae! I was taking candids!”

“Of me?” said Taeyong.

“God,” said Yuta, lowering the phone, “look at you,” and Taeyong went to peer over his shoulder. It really was a pretty picture. Taeyong’s pensive face was in profile, and the sun lit him up so his glowing skin and rose-pink hair contrasted starkly with the shades of blue behind him. Silently Yuta swiped left to the other pictures he’d taken, and frame by frame they watched Taeyong’s face turning slowly and making eye contact with the camera, his eyebrows drawing together, his mouth rounding.

Yuta hit the power button on his phone and put in his pocket abruptly. “I’ll send those to you if you want to put them on Instagram. Let’s go inside. I’m hungry.”

The lobby wasn’t as sweeping as that of the Seoul Hann, but it was just as glamorous, featuring a waterfall pouring down over a sheet of rock straight into the floor on one side, and a gorgeous plant wall blooming with tiny red flowers on the other. Taeyong followed Yuta along the plant wall to where its vines trailed off into pebbled rock behind a reception desk. A young man was sitting behind the desk and typing at a computer.

“Hi,” said Yuta, dropping his bag from his shoulder.

The man looked up and said, “Hello! Welcome to the Hann. Do you have a reservation?”

“Yeah,” said Yuta.

“Great. Names?”

“Um, Lee Taeyong,” said Yuta, peeking over the desk at the computer as the young man hit a few keys, “and Nakamoto Yuta, but the reservation might be under…”

“Ah, the Genevieve suite,” said the man. He smiled pleasantly and said, “Honeymoon trip?”

“No,” said Yuta flatly. “We’re not together.”

The severe tone made Taeyong’s heart twinge, but the receptionist didn’t miss a beat. “Ah. No problem. The card used to make the reservation doesn’t match your names, do you mind if I see some ID?”

“Oh, let me get the…” Taeyong said, and dropped to one knee to dig into his backpack for the envelope with the reservation information, but suddenly the young man, squinting at the computer, was waving his hand and saying, “Oh—oh, you’re guests of the Suh family! I see. No need for identification. I’m sorry!”

“Thank you,” said Yuta, at the same time that Taeyong said, “No worries.”

“Um,” said the receptionist, suddenly flustered, “would you still like the complimentary champagne and chocolates delivered to your room? It’s included, of course, but if…”

“Yes, please,” said Yuta, his foot tapping.

“Right. No problem. Uh, here are…your room keys,” said the receptionist, handing a paper sheath containing two cards to Taeyong, “and you’ll take the elevator all the way up to the ninth floor. Enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you!” Taeyong said and they crossed the lobby to the elevators. Yuta’s foot was still tapping as the elevator rose. Whatever sense of calm had pervaded Taeyong’s mind when they’d gotten out of the cab was quickly leaking away.

“Guess people might never stop mistaking us for a couple,” said Taeyong with a nervous laugh, then thought, _Why? Why did I say that?_

“Maybe they won’t,” said Yuta, and stepped out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened. They followed signs down the narrow hallway to the Genevieve Suite, which, when Taeyong unlocked the door, was cast in shadows and late evening glow.

“Whoa,” said Yuta as they went inside. They were standing in a glossy blue living room, with a square white couch and a fancy coffee table made of driftwood. The living room opened onto a small, sleek white and silver kitchen on the right side, while the left wall boasted a ridiculously wide TV and a closed door. Straight ahead of them, a pair of sliding glass doors led onto a balcony.

“Oh!” Taeyong said and dropped his backpack on the floor, running to throw open the glass doors. The balcony was made of scrolling wrought iron, like the fences around the pool, which Taeyong could see if he looked straight down. The pool was a distant purple blob in the dusk. Taeyong could make out two figures standing at the edge of the fenced-in area and looking out at the ocean. The sun was melting over the horizon in the distance, and the sea stretched so far that it blurred with the sky.

Taeyong turned around and began to say something, but Yuta wasn’t behind him. He looked inside. Yuta wasn’t in the living room anymore. Taeyong walked to the other end of the balcony and found another pair of glass doors that led into the bedroom, where Yuta was sitting on the bed, head bent over his phone. Taeyong cupped his hands around his eyes and peered through the glass. Yuta’s phone screen was bright with hues of gold and blue. A streak of pink caught Taeyong’s eye.

Yuta was looking at him. At the picture of him, the one he’d taken outside.

Taeyong tapped on the glass and Yuta jumped, turning around. Taeyong waved. Yuta rose to unlock the glass doors and slid them open, poking his head out. “How is it?”

“The balcony? Amazing,” Taeyong said.

“The sea just goes on forever,” said Yuta.

Taeyong nodded. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out. Yuta had texted him six images.

“It’s chilly though. Come inside,” said Yuta, and Taeyong stepped into the bedroom, taking a better look around. Lacy curtains billowed on either side of the glass doors, while a futon occupied one corner and an enormous white bed overflowed with pillows in the middle. A vase of roses stood on one of the nightstands, and a pair of towels were folded up in the shape of swans in the center of the bed, wings flying out behind them and their necks curving together like a heart.

“Bathroom’s that way,” said Yuta, gesturing to a doorway in the other corner. “They’ve got a huge bathtub. And one of those overhead showers that come out straight down.”

“Oh, nice,” said Taeyong, and their gazes both settled on the vast bed.

A long few seconds passed, and an image flashed into Taeyong’s mind: falling asleep on separate sides of the bed but waking up wrapped in each other, limbs tangled, breath mingling. He jolted like he’d gotten a static shock and said, “I’ll take the couch.”

“No, I’ll take the couch,” said Yuta, following him through the door into the living room.

“Yuta, it’s fine.”

“You think I’m going to let you take the fucking couch when the whole point of us going on this trip is so that you can get actual sleep? Fuck no. Doyoung’ll kill me.” Yuta picked up his bag and began to unpack the contents onto the couch, for no apparent reason other than to be stubborn.

“Stop it,” said Taeyong as Yuta laid out his phone charger, a novel, and his wallet on the couch. Yuta ignored him. Taeyong huffed and folded his arms. He considered arguing further, or maybe kicking him, but Yuta didn’t seem to be in the mood, not after the receptionist had asked if they were on a honeymoon trip. Had the question really irritated him that much? Or was it the whole situation, the heart-shaped swan towels, the roses, the champagne and chocolates, and now the bed? A month ago, Yuta would have thought all this was hilarious. Well, a month ago, they would have both slept in the bed. Neither of them would have thought twice about it. Things had changed.

Taeyong rubbed his hands over his face and said, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” then walked out of the room.

“Can we go eat dinner soon?” Yuta shouted after him.

Taeyong stared into the mirror in the bathroom for a while, trying to convince himself that everything was fine, that nothing was going wrong, that things might change sometimes but that didn’t mean change was bad, and then he received a text from Johnny. “ _u guys make it to the hotel okay?_ ”

“ _yeah thanks john <3_,” Taeyong replied.

“ _nice, have fun_ ”

“ _they didn’t make us use the envelope you gave me, do we still need it?_ ”

“ _well probs not_ ”

“ _so i can throw it out?_ ” Taeyong asked, and Johnny said, “ _keep it on u just in case? or don’t idk_ ”

Taeyong unpacked everything in his backpack except the envelope with the reservation information and his water bottle, and hung up his clothes in the closet. Then he and Yuta walked a short distance past some other hotels and into town, where a vast array of street food presented itself to them. The hulking shadow of Seongsan Ilchulbong, the volcanic peak that Yuta had wanted to climb, rose in the distance, blotting out stars that were beginning to fade into view as the night darkened.

“We have to do Seongsan Ilchulbong,” said Yuta as they sat at a rickety table outside a seafood stand slurping abalone soup and sea urchin sashimi, while aromatic smoke and steam rose into the dark night from nearby food stands, and tourists speaking languages that Taeyong didn’t recognize passed them in groups of two and three and four. Yuta had a map of the island that he’d gotten from the hotel reception spread out on the table in front of him. For some reason he looked absurdly attractive right now, with his hair unstyled and soft and the sleeves of his sweatshirt rolled up halfway, and Taeyong had to try extra hard to focus on what he was saying. “That’ll be half a day. And there’s Hallasan…I don’t know if you want to hike two different mountains within two days, but this is the tallest mountain in Korea…”

“Maybe there’s a cable car or something that can take us up,” said Tayeong hopefully. Yuta was right. Taeyong did not want to hike two mountains this weekend under any circumstances.

“Three days isn’t a lot of time, I guess,” said Yuta, “but we can probably hit all the really popular stuff. What do you think about those caves? What are they called—Manjanggul…”

“I could do the caves. But Yuta, I want to go to the waterfall, Cheonjeyeon Waterfall,” said Taeyong.

“Cheonjeyeon? Oh yeah,” said Yuta, tracing a fingertip down from the caves at the north end of the island to the waterfall in the south. “Oh, definitely, we have to go there. Want to do that tomorrow?”

Taeyong nodded eagerly and said, “Yeah, and eat Jeju tangerines!”

“Is it tangerine season yet?” said Yuta.

“Tangerine season just ended, kiddo,” said the old woman who had sold them the soup and the sea urchin, apparently eavesdropping on their conversation. “ _But!_ Do you know what’s always in season on Jeju Island?”

“What?” said Taeyong, while Yuta picked at the rice in his abalone soup.

The woman leaned over the counter of her stand, patted her hat down over her wild gray hair, and said, “Black pork! You absolutely cannot leave Jeju without a nice hearty meal of black pork. It’s the specialty around here.”

“Oh, yes,” said Yuta, glancing at Taeyong, “we’ve heard about the black pork.”

“For young, lively people like you, there are three things you must do on this island,” the old lady continued, holding up three fingers. “First of all, you have to try the black pork. Second of all, you should climb Seongsan Ilchulbong before dawn and see the sun come up over the Pacific. ‘ _Sunrise Peak_ ,’” she said in English, “that’s what the American tourists call it. An old woman like me has to be resting at dawn, but youths like the two of you, with all your energy, you can’t miss the Seongsan Ilchulbong sunrise, oh no.”

“What’s the third thing?” Yuta said. Taeyong could see how hard he was working to mask his impatience in his squarely set jaw.

“Ah. The third thing kids like you would enjoy is Loveland,” said the woman, and gave a cackle.

Yuta stared at her blankly, gripping his spoon in his hand.

“Loveland?” Taeyong said.

“Cheeky place, Loveland.” The woman cackled again. “An old woman like me, I’ve got no place there, no, no. But you kids would get a kick out of it. Some art students from a fancy university up in Seoul made a whole bunch of erotic sculptures, hundreds of them, and they’re all on display over there in Loveland.”

“Erotic sculptures,” repeated Taeyong.

“They’ve even got movies! All sorts of stuff to learn. All very sensual. There’s a—”

“What are your thoughts on the Grandfather Stones?” Yuta interrupted.

“Ah, the Dol Hareubang?” The woman waved a hand dismissively. “You can see those all over the island. If you’re asking whether you should go see the park, well, it’s a nice place to visit, but didn’t you kids say you only have three days on the island?”

“Yes, that’s right,” said Yuta, “which is why we should be getting on our way,” and he stood up, folding the map and bowing several times to the old lady. Taeyong followed his lead, stuffing his last piece of sea urchin into his mouth and bowing. “Thank you for the advice. Thank you,” they said, and the old lady waved, calling after them, “Remember. Black pork!”

“Do you think she was serious? About the erotic sculptures?” asked Taeyong as they turned onto one of Seongsan’s broader streets and the bustle of the market disappeared behind them.

Yuta, punching at his phone screen, said, “Oh my god, it’s a real thing. Look at this.”

Taeyong choked and slapped a hand over his mouth at the sight of a massive mosaiced sculpture of a dick rising up out of the ground. “Eewww,” he said as Yuta swiped to a picture of a statue of two naked people getting it on in a rather acrobatic position that Taeyong never knew existed.

“This is all at a _park?_ ” said Taeyong.

“I don’t know if…if we have time to see it,” said Yuta, grimacing even as he scrolled through a few more graphic images.

“What about what she said about Seongsan Ilchulbong?” Taeyong asked. They’d looped around down another side street and were walking back in the direction of the hotel. “That we should go at sunrise?”

Yuta thought for a moment, tongue probing the inside of his cheek. “I mean, I don’t know. You’re supposed to be getting sleep this weekend. And I know you’d never fall asleep before midnight even if you tried.”

“Yeah,” said Taeyong, “I guess.”

They stopped into a bar for a couple beers, and booked a guided hike of the area around Cheonjeyeon Waterfall online. When they arrived back in their hotel room, a bottle of champagne partly submerged in a bucket of half-melted ice stood on their kitchen table alongside a small heart-shaped box of chocolates. Yuta barely glanced at it, only tossed his sweatshirt onto the couch, grabbed a pair of boxers and a T-shirt, and went to the bathroom.

Taeyong ate a chocolate, changed into his pajamas, and then went out onto the balcony. The dark was heavy, but he could just make out where the cliff dropped off and the sea began by the tiny glimmers of moonlight riding the crests of the waves. He loved the way it smelled—it was fresher here than in Busan, where the thick air always reeked of brine. The salty scent of the sea around Jeju was light, almost sweet. It reminded him of Yuta. Or maybe everything pretty reminded him of Yuta. He put his head in his hands, elbows pressing into the thin iron railing.

Taeyong had expected to feel overwhelmed this weekend, even suffocated, with nothing to distract him from his feelings for Yuta for three straight days. But he wasn’t overwhelmed at all. He wanted more. So much more. And the more he wanted of Yuta, the more distant Yuta seemed. He’d feared the time alone with Yuta would be too much and now it wasn’t nearly enough.

Angrily he aimed a kick at the iron bars, then yelped and grabbed his slippered foot.

“What the hell did you do that for?” said Yuta behind him.

Taeyong staggered to the side in surprise, holding his foot. “Wh-where did you come from?”

“In there,” said Yuta. “Are you okay?”

“I’m—I’m fine.”

“Oh, Tae,” said Yuta, looking him up and down as he cradled his throbbing toes in one hand.

“No, I’m okay. I was just…messing around.” Taeyong stood up straight and threw a casual arm over the railing.

Yuta frowned at him for a moment and said, “All right, well, I’m going to sleep, okay?”

Taeyong followed him into the suite. “Yuta, can you _please_ take the bed—”

“No,” said Yuta and turned into the living room.

“That couch is shorter than your body, Yuta. You’re going to—”

“I’m fine,” said Yuta, curling up on the couch with his knees bent, a blanket that he’d found somewhere draped over him.

Taeyong was suddenly inexplicably pissed off. “Don’t be stupid. The bed is big enough for both of us. That bed could fit four people. You’ll have plenty of space.”

“Good night, Taeyong,” said Yuta, and turned around to face the wall.

Taeyong was so mad he wanted to cry. He didn’t understand why Yuta was acting like this. And the worst part was, Yuta wasn’t doing anything wrong. Not one thing. Taeyong couldn’t pinpoint a single action on Yuta’s part that was making him upset. It was just all wrong. None of it made sense.

Taeyong shut off the lights, leaving Yuta in darkness, and stormed out of the room. He brushed his teeth and washed his face with furious vigor, then crawled into bed and tucked his knees into his chest. He had left the sliding doors just slightly open, and the lace curtains swelled and swirled with every little gasp of breeze that made its way through the crack. He stared at the curtains for a while. He didn’t feel like sleeping at all. Eventually he rolled over and picked up his phone.

Hours had passed by the time Yuta, shirtless and rubbing his eye with the heel of one hand, pushed open the bedroom door and stopped short at the sight of Taeyong’s face lit up in the blue glow of his phone.

“Taeyong?” Yuta said. “What the fuck, it’s four in the fucking morning, why are you still up?”

“What are _you_ doing up?” Taeyong retorted, sitting up.

“I just woke up because I had to pee. Can you at least put your phone down and try to sleep?” Yuta flicked on the bathroom light, went inside and closed the door.

_Condescending dickweed_ , Taeyong thought, and continued to go through the Instagram stories of people he didn’t care about. He heard the toilet flush and the sink run. Then Yuta opened the bathroom door, saw him still on his phone, and put his hands on his hips. Taeyong glared back at him.

“Taeyong,” said Yuta exasperatedly, “we have the waterfall hike at ten, why won’t you—”

“I can’t sleep! You’re out on the couch and—”

“I’m sleeping _fine_ on the couch—”

“—and I don’t know why you won’t just come in here, because then I wouldn’t have to worry about your back hurting when you wake up—”

Yuta made a noise, a half-groan-half-scream, and said, “ _Fine!_ ” before lifting up the covers and throwing himself onto the other side of the bed. “There. Now go to sleep,” he said and rolled over so Taeyong was faced with his back.

“Fine,” said Taeyong, and turned over to face the balcony. He was asleep minutes later.

He woke up around six, when the pink glow of indirect sunlight was coming in through the glass doors. Yuta was sprawled out on the other side of the bed, his mouth lolling open, his breath even. One arm was flung above his head, and the other was stretched across the bed towards Taeyong.

Taeyong studied Yuta’s hand, lying on the pillow near his face. He wanted to hold it. He didn’t, though, just closed his eyes.

When he woke again, he felt all warm and buttery, and Yuta’s alarm was blasting “Mirotic” by TVXQ. He opened his eyes. He saw Yuta blink awake and look at him serenely, and then they both realized at the same time that their hands were clasped together between them, and instantly Yuta pulled away to grab for his phone. The alarm fell silent.

“Sorry,” Yuta muttered and rolled out bed, standing up.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” said Taeyong as Yuta walked out of the room. “ _I’m_ sorry.”

“What are you wearing?” Yuta said from the living room. “Is it hot out today?”

“Go out on the balcony and see for yourself,” Taeyong said, turning over and squeezing his eyes shut again. Why did Yuta feel the need to change the subject? Taeyong wanted to keep talking about it, keep thinking about it, about Yuta’s hand in his, even if they were just exchanging apologies, and how had it happened anyway? Had he grabbed Yuta’s hand in his sleep? He wasn’t sure. He tried to summon back the warm feeling he’d woken up with. Yuta had rolled towards him at some point overnight, because they’d been facing each other when they woke up. Why couldn’t he have awoken in Yuta’s arms, with his head on Yuta’s shoulder or on his chest, like when people have to share beds in romantic comedies? He pictured the feeling of Yuta’s arms around him, the sound of Yuta’s heartbeat in his ear.

Then he sat up and gave himself a shake. He was sweating. He tossed the covers off him. Of course, that whole scenario was exactly what Yuta had wanted to avoid when he insisted on sleeping on the couch for half the night. It was Taeyong’s fault they’d ended up in the same bed anyway.

He climbed out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He was still annoyed—by last night, by the swiftness with which Yuta had snatched his hand away and by his eagerness to stop talking about it, by the way he couldn’t tell whether Yuta was pulling away from him, by everything. Taeyong usually didn’t get mad like this. He tried to tamp it down, but there it was rising up again. He was annoyed that the water didn’t warm up as fast as the shower water at home, and he was annoyed that his life wasn’t like a movie and he hadn’t woken up wrapped in Yuta’s arms, and then he was annoyed that the hotel soap kept slipping out of his hand and falling to the floor. He was annoyed when he finished his shower without Yuta throwing open the shower curtain and stepping in with him, and he was annoyed at himself for being annoyed at something so nonsensical. He was annoyed, of course, at the thought of Yuta walking around outside with his shirt off, but he was even more annoyed when he emerged from the bathroom to find that Yuta had put on his sweatshirt while he waited for a turn in the bathroom.

When Yuta asked him if he had the room keys as they were getting ready to leave, Taeyong snapped at him, “Of course I have the room keys, _and_ the reservation information, _and_ your map. I have everything. Why do I have to carry everything?”

Yuta looked at him. “Fine, whatever, give me the room keys.”

“No, it’s fine,” said Taeyong, and began to heave his backpack onto his shoulder, but Yuta grabbed it from him and zipped it open. He dug around Taeyong’s water bottle and jacket to where the papers were, and pulled out the map along with one of the key cards. “Here,” he said, shaking it in front of Taeyong’s face, “now we both have a key. Even.”

They weren’t even. They weren’t even _close_ to even. Yuta was carrying a piece of paper and a room key while Taeyong was carrying a piece of paper, a room key, and all the weight of unrequited love. Yuta had no idea how uneven they were.

Taeyong continued to fume as they ate toast at the hotel breakfast and then picked up snacks to take with them at a convenience store in town. The bus ride to the waterfall was bumpy and unairconditioned, but Yuta’s mood was beginning to lighten again as the bright, humid scenery of Jeju rolled by outside the windows, and Taeyong tried to suppress his irritation for Yuta’s sake.

They found their tour guide easily in the middle of the clearing where the path to the waterfalls began, a very tiny lady in a red shirt that bore the name of the tour company. She was speaking animatedly to a gaggle of people that appeared to comprise their hiking group: some couples a few years older than Yuta and Taeyong, a group of three older women wearing enormous hats to shade their faces from the sun, a middle-aged couple with sour looks on their faces, and a teenager standing with his mother and father.

“…middle tier of the waterfall, where the water gathers in the Pool of Gods before it falls to the river below,” the tour guide was expounding, with no little enthusiasm. She turned to Yuta and Taeyong to say, “Hello, boys! Did you purchase tickets at the Botanical Gardens? Or online? Yes, online, very good. Names?”

“Nakamoto Yuta and Lee Taeyong,” said Taeyong.

“Yes, very good, I’ve got you right here. Nakamoto Yuta,” she said, crossing something off a clipboard and looking up at Taeyong, “now I know a Japanese name when I see one, are you visiting from Japan, dear?”

“Oh, I’m not—he’s not—” Taeyong said, and gestured to Yuta.

“I live in Seoul,” said Yuta, “but yes, I’m Japanese.”

“How wonderful! I grew up in Osaka myself,” said the tour guide cheerfully, pushing her round glasses up her nose.

“I’m from Osaka!” said Yuta, his smile blooming like a flower, and they began to chat about things Taeyong didn’t know, Osaka things. Taeyong folded his arms and looked at the ground, trying not to feel left out, but he did, and why was it easier for this random lady to make Yuta smile than it was for Taeyong these days?

“All right, folks, it’s ten o’clock. Are we all ready to begin?” chirped the guide a few minutes later.

“Yes,” the group chorused.

“Great! Now you’ve all signed up for the two-hour hike,” said the woman, “so you’re in luck! We’ll be seeing plenty of the forest before we arrive at the falls, and this forest, let me tell you—a nature lover’s dream! There are all sorts of rare plants in this forest, especially around the river, which we’ll be coming up on shortly.” She steered the group towards the well-marked path and said, “Real quick, here are the rules for the hike: if you need to slow down or stop for a few minutes, no problem! Please let me know, though, if you plan on dropping back from the group, because if I lose any of you then I have to spend my whole afternoon looking for you! Everyone got that? Great, very good. Now, we’ll start to hear the river in a few minutes,” she said, speaking over her shoulder, “and if you look closely, you’ll find some very rare fellows such as solipnan reeds and, _my_ personal favorites, skeleton fork ferns…”

As they followed the trail through the woods, Taeyong stopped listening to the guide talk about reeds and ferns and rock crevices and river climates. He was sweating again—the evening before may been cold, but the day was quickly getting hot, and it was humid enough that the clouds passing over the sun at intervals didn’t do anything to cut the heat. The forest was beautiful, and the river looked gorgeously cool, but taking a dip was apparently prohibited.

He looked at Yuta, who was walking next to him. Yuta’s face was turned skyward. A drop of sweat rolled down his neck, but he didn’t look as if the heat was bothering him. “Excuse me,” he called to the tour guide a few steps ahead, “what type of tree is this?”

“That shortie? That’s a Camellia tree,” said the tour guide.

The dad walking alongside his teenage son asked the tour guide something, and as she answered him, Yuta turned to Taeyong.

“Isn’t this amazing? Aren’t trees so cool?”

“Trees are nice,” said Taeyong. “But I like the river better.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Yuta, “the river’s great.”

Gazing at Yuta’s upturned face, Taeyong realized that the light of the sun hadn’t touched down in several minutes. In fact, the forest around them was growing shadier. He looked up. Not a single patch of blue sky was visible through the trees—only clouds, shiny gray at one end of the sky and steely dark at the other.

“It’s beginning to look like it may rain soon,” the tour guide called back to them, “but don’t worry, we’ll probably beat it. And if it does rain, just know that the waterfall will be all the more spectacular with the greater volume of water going over!”

“Oh, I hope it rains,” said Yuta, grinning at Taeyong, and Taeyong could only grunt. Rain? Rain, on his beautiful Jeju Island getaway? Rain in the middle of a hike? It was like the universe was taunting him. Sure enough, when he looked to the sky ten minutes later, a drop of rain landed square in the middle of his forehead.

It wasn’t long until the raindrops were coming down in sheets, and they were more or less drenched, and the middle-aged lady was glaring daggers at her husband while the tour guide said above the sound of the rain, “Don’t worry! Don’t worry! Showers that come down this fast in subtropical climates such as this one usually pass in a few minutes, and it’ll be worth it to see all this rainwater coming over the falls! It’s actually fairly rare to see the falls after rain, because everyone avoids coming out here when there’s precipitation in the weather forecast, so you folks have wonderful timing.”

The trail had grown rocky, and Taeyong was afraid he was going to slip. As he squelched his way over the rocks with his soaked sneakers, Yuta said next to him, “Can you believe we got this lucky to have a flash fucking flood right before we see a waterfall?”

Taeyong looked up. Yuta, with his hair plastered to his forehead and raindrops clinging to his eyelashes, was smiling at him.

“No,” said Taeyong, “this isn’t fucking lucky,” and as he said the last word, his foot slid out from underneath him, and down he went.

Several members of the hiking group gasped aloud. A few hands reached out to help him, including Yuta’s, but Taeyong batted them all away. “There’s nothing fucking lucky,” Taeyong said, struggling to his feet, vaguely aware of a streak of mud down his arm, “about going on a hike in the middle of a bright hot sunny day and walking into a downpour. There’s nothing lucky about that, there’s nothing lucky about any of this.” Yuta put a hand on his shoulder but he threw it off. “There’s nothing _fair_ about any of this, I get forced to go on what was supposed to be a big fun no-stress vacation and instead I’m stuck in a goddamn fucking one-bed suite—”

Taeyong could see the teenager filming them with his phone out of the corner of his eye. It didn’t seem to matter. Yuta said, “Taeyong, calm d—”

“—with my best friend and I didn’t think it was a big deal but then you’re acting like sleeping in the same bed with me will put you at risk for hepatitis—”

“What the fuck? I was mad because you guilted me into getting into bed with you at four in the morning instead of just letting me—”

“ _I—?_ _You_ made me take the bed, I didn’t even fucking want it! I said I would take the couch and you were all like, ‘ _no, I’m Yuta, I’m stubborn and I call the shots, there are no arguments because I’m the man of the house_ …’”

“Fuck off! I just wanted you to get some sleep!”

“…and I figured that would be the end of it, but then we wake up and the no homo shit starts _again_ —”

“The _no homo shit?_ ”

“You can’t even touch me anymore without pulling away like I gave you a static shock or something,” Taeyong gasped. He realized he was sobbing. He wasn’t sure when the tears had started coming. “You don’t hug me like you used to, you don’t put your head on my shoulder when we’re watching TV, you don’t squeeze my cheeks, you can’t hold my hand, you can’t even sleep on the other side of a gigantic bed with me!”

Yuta’s face was crumpled and cast downwards, his fingers curled into fists at his sides. “Taeyong, you know why I—”

“You’re right,” said Taeyong, “I shouldn’t have kissed you at the wedding, what else do you want me to say? You told me not to mope around feeling guilty, well guess what, I do, I do feel guilty, I’m sorry I kissed you, I’m sorry I crossed a line! I’m sorry I made things weird, and you know what else? I’m sorry for being in love with you, I’m sorry I can’t _stop_ being in love with you even though you don’t feel the same way, I’m sorry. I wish I could stop. But my heart doesn’t care what I want, it doesn’t care that you don’t love me back, it just keeps loving you more and more, and there’s nothing I can do about it, and you know what, no, I _don’t_ wish I could stop, I take back what I said, I don’t ever want to stop loving you no matter how hard it is, I don’t want to ever love anyone but you, that would just be like…”

As he said the last few words Taeyong felt his energy drop away, like his battery had suddenly died, and he trailed off. The rain had slowed. Their hiking group stood in a cluster behind them, hands over their mouths. Yuta’s face was painted over in astonishment.

One last, small sob rolled out of Taeyong and he whispered, “…wrong.”

Everything was silent except for the drip of the rain. Taeyong wiped tears and rainwater off his face. He felt like he’d just had the wind knocked out of him by a soccer ball. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done. He’d lost his mind and screamed at Yuta in front of a bunch of random people in the middle of the forest. He thought of how badly he had wanted to tell Yuta he loved him, how carefully he had planned the perfect confession. Well now he’d done it, and it couldn’t have been worse.

“You love me?”

Yuta’s voice when he spoke was thin, like it was about to crack.

Taeyong threw his palms out from his sides and said, “Obviously.”

Yuta looked away from Taeyong and out at the forest for several seconds. Then he said, “Give me—give me your backpack.”

Taeyong stared at him. Yuta held out his hand.

“What?” Taeyong said.

Yuta nodded and beckoned. Taeyong let the backpack fall from his shoulder and handed it to him.

Yuta knelt on the wet ground and removed the water bottle, the jacket, and a pack of dried mangoes, placing them on the rock beside him. Then he reached back into the backpack and drew out the crinkled manila envelope that had their reservation information in it. “ _Taeyong—Yuta_ ,” read the front. Yuta opened the envelope, pulled out the rumpled paper inside, and unfolded it.

His eyes creased at the corners and he said, “I knew it.”

“That’s our reservation,” Taeyong said dumbly.

Yuta stood up and held it out. “No. It’s not.”

“Then what…” Taeyong took the paper and his voice died in his throat. The top right corner was dated 2014, not typed, but handwritten, in blue ink. It was Yuta’s writing. “ _Dear Taeyong_ ,” said the first line.

“It’s a letter,” said Yuta, “that I wrote you in 2014. A love letter. I told Johnny to give it to you on our last exam day of high school.”

“ _So I’m writing this letter because you’re really important to me and I think I should tell you why,”_ the letter said. Taeyong’s gaze scanned over the faded lines.

_“When I came to Seoul four years ago I was kind of scared, but after I met you I wasn’t scared anymore. Because we got along so easily and it felt really special. Okay I’m not a poet so I’ll just say it. I like you as more than friends. I always have. Like a lot? I kind of love you. Haha. I asked my sister how do you know when you’re in love and she said it’s when the other person’s pain hurts you equally as much as your own pain and when their success makes you as happy as your own success. And I just thought about when you got into the music production program at the university. I felt like I was on top of the world for like two weeks, hahaha. Like your happiness is my happiness. Anyway yeah that’s what I wanted to tell you. I love you. Okay that’s all._

_“XOXO_

_“Your Yuta”_

As Taeyong’s eyes darted over the page, a drop of rain fell on it. Frantically he wiped it off.

“And I guess, instead of getting to you,” Yuta said, and this time his voice did crack, “it ended up at the back of Johnny’s closet instead.”

“It says you were in love with me,” Taeyong said, pointing at the page like a child.

Yuta laughed, exasperatedly. “Taeyong, I _am_ in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for the last nine years.”

Taeyong stood very still. The whirlpool drip of the rain sounded as if it were suspended, as if reality had broken, and every raindrop had frozen in the air midway through its descent. But the rain hadn’t frozen. It was falling, falling on Yuta’s brow and rolling down his cheeks, and time hadn’t stopped, and this was real.

“You really didn’t know?” Yuta said. “All this time, you…just didn’t know?”

This was real. This was really happening.

He shook his head in answer to Yuta’s question, and barely audibly, someone in the group of hikers muttered, “Oh my god, kiss him already.”

A half-smile flitted across Yuta’s face like a butterfly, alighting and departing in a breath.

“He gave me face masks,” Taeyong heard himself say.

Yuta’s eyebrows angled up. “Face masks?”

“The last day of exams,” Taeyong said, “Johnny told me to meet him at his locker so he could give me something from you.” He could feel Yuta’s gravity now, resonating in his body like a drum, and he let it pull him forward. “And I did and uh, he gave me a packet of face masks.”

Yuta was moving closer too, his gaze never straying from Taeyong’s. “Why did he give you face masks?”

“I don’t know,” Taeyong said, “probably by accident,” and then they were kissing, and now Taeyong could feel it, he could _believe_ it, that all of this was real. He wasn’t imagining it. He was holding Yuta’s love letter in one hand and the side of his jaw in the other, and there were months, years, lifetimes of longing on Yuta’s lips, and they were muddy and dripping with rain and sweat and surrounded by strangers and there was nothing perfect about it, and it was everything Taeyong had never dared to dream of.

It barely lasted a second or two, and they both pulled away as they became aware of the crowd of hikers cheering in earnest, every single one of them, the old ladies and the sourfaced couple and the teenager recording on his phone. Taeyong’s eyes swept over the collection of smiles and he immediately hid his face in Yuta’s shoulder. Yuta’s fingers settled on his hip and he grabbed for them, thankful to feel Yuta’s hand grip his firmly.

“Um…thank you,” Yuta said. “We’ll just stay here for now. Thank you for the tour.”

“Of course, of course! Just stay on the path and you’ll reach the waterfall after about twenty minutes,” said the tour guide. Yuta nodded and she trilled, “You kids have a wonderful, a, a wonderful day now!”

Taeyong peeked sideways to see the little troupe proceeding down the path, the middle-aged man’s arm now looped around his wife’s waist. The teenage boy was walking backwards, waving at Yuta. He caught Taeyong’s eye and made finger guns. His mother turned around to look for him, and he quickly dropped his hands to his sides and faced forward.

Taeyong let his forehead rest on Yuta’s shoulder until they couldn’t hear the hikers anymore. The rain had stopped, but the leaves continued to drip, gleaming in the white light. A bird called somewhere fall off. He could feel Yuta’s hand in his, unfamiliarly familiar, like it had been there all his life, like it was a part of himself.

Finally he lifted his head to look at Yuta: at his sodden hair, his wide eyes, his smile. Taeyong opened his mouth to speak. Yuta waited.

“Holy shit,” said Taeyong.

A laugh tumbled from Yuta’s mouth.

“Holy…” Taeyong said.

“You really didn’t know,” Yuta said.

“I didn’t know _shit_ ,” Taeyong hiccupped.

“Shhh, shh,” said Yuta and brought their lips together again.

They stood there for a long time, pressed flush against each other, the letter trapped between their chests and forgotten. For the first time there was no one watching them, and Taeyong didn’t have to hold back. So he didn’t. And neither did Yuta. Yuta kissed him like there was stardust coating his lips, like he had magic inside him, and there was nothing more he wanted than to taste it. He could feel Yuta’s arms at his back, holding him, and he could feel that unseen and unnamed color unfolding between them, until there was nothing but them and it.

The sound of voices down the path broke the bubble around them, and they broke apart, looking at each other with big eyes and small smiles. Quickly, giggling, they arranged themselves into a more acceptable presentation for a public space. The letter fluttered to the ground, and Taeyong, letting out a tiny shriek, grabbed for it before it could get wet.

“Don’t rip it!” said Yuta.

“I WON’T,” Taeyong hissed.

“Hello there!” said the man leading the group of hikers, who was wearing the same red shirt that their tour guide had been wearing. “You guys enjoying the trail?”

Yuta nodded, hands clasped behind his back.

“Yes, we’re enjoying it a lot,” said Taeyong. Yuta snorted.

“The falls are just about twenty minutes that way,” said the tour guide as the group passed them by.

“They told us,” said Yuta, “thank you.”

“Happy hiking!” the guide said, and soon the tour was out of earshot.

Yuta looked at Taeyong and mimicked in a shrill voice, “ _‘Yes, we’re enjoying it a lot,’_ ” and Taeyong shoved him with all his might. Yuta stumbled into a tree and doubled over laughing.

“What? We _are_ ,” said Taeyong, folding up the damp letter.

“Twenty minutes ago you were all like, ‘ _there’s nothing lucky about this fucking hike’_ …”

“I was going THROUGH SOME SHIT,” said Taeyong. Yuta couldn’t stop laughing, one hand on the tree next to him and the other over his stomach.

“How long…” Yuta gasped. “How long…”

Taeyong folded his arms and giggled, “How long?”

Yuta straightened up finally. “…how long have you…”

“Since high school,” said Taeyong, and stepped towards him, taking his wrist to pull him closer.

“Oh my god,” Yuta said, a little breathlessly.

“I loved you since high school,” Taeyong said. “But I didn’t really realize till January.”

“Of this year?”

“Yeah.”

Yuta looked down at Taeyong’s fingers grasping his arm between them. Slowly he turned it over so he could close his hand around Taeyong’s, and held it there, watching his thumb run back and forth across the inside of Taeyong’s wrist. His expression was one of wonder.

“You love me,” he said quietly.

“So much, Yuta,” Taeyong said. Saying it made him feel like he could breathe. “I’m so in love with you, sometimes I…I can’t even wrap my head around it. I don’t know. How to describe it. I just love you so much.”

Yuta’s eyes flickered from their hands up to Taeyong’s face, and they stood in silence a moment.

Then Taeyong said, “And you…love me too, still?”

Yuta rolled his eyes, and Taeyong insisted, “Like, after all these years…”

“Taeyong.” Yuta pressed their clasped fists to his chest. “I never stopped being in love with you for one second. I love you right now, and I loved you ten minutes ago, and I loved you this morning, and I loved you yesterday, and I loved you last month, and last year. Every second of every day, I’ve loved you, and I’ll still love you tomorrow and the next day.”

Taeyong’s shoulders relaxed and he looked at Yuta for a while without speaking as he tried to absorb the words, how they made him feel, how he’d never felt anything like this before. It was like a vivid, rich, gorgeous dream, and at the same time, reality had never felt realer.

He wanted to try to express all this, but what he mumbled eventually was, “So can we be, like, together now?”

Yuta laughed and kissed his forehead. “You think I’m ever letting you go after this?”

He wrapped Taeyong up in his arms and squeezed hard, and Taeyong said, muffled into his shoulder, “You better not.”

Yuta laughed again, more quietly, and slackened his grip the slightest bit so instead of squeezing the air out of Taeyong he was holding him, cradling him into his thin frame. Taeyong pressed his arms to Yuta’s back and closed his eyes.

“Never,” he heard Yuta say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ if peter gabriel's cover of heroes is a little slow for you, then david bowie's original works just as well ~
> 
> thank you guys for making it this far!! it was a little angsty for a while there? but now the mushy stuff can begin! tell me what you think in the comments!


	14. holiday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holiday (feat. dpr live) / suzy

Once they picked up their backpacks and finally got on their way to the waterfall, Taeyong read through the letter again, more carefully this time, taking in every word. They were walking slowly, hand in hand, and everything around them looked bright and surprising and exceptionally beautiful—the leaves, the ferns, the steam rising up from the black stones as the sun dried up the rain.

“‘ _When the other person’s pain hurts you equally as much as your own pain_ ,’” Taeyong read from the letter, “‘ _and when their success makes you as happy as your own success_.’ Your sister said that?”

Yuta nodded. “Yeah, she did. It’s kind of legit, right? Honestly, though,” he said, “looking back, I think she knew I was in love with you before I did, and she just said whatever she thought would make me realize it. I was, like, not subtle when I talked about you.”

“When you talked about me?” said Taeyong. “When? When we were kids?”

“Oh yeah. Basically since the day I met you.”

“The day you _met_ me?”

A giggle escaped Yuta and he spread the hand that wasn’t holding Taeyong’s across the air, as if painting a picture over the saturated green around them. “Imagine. You’re fifteen. You’re feeling kind of gay lately, and you just moved, and your Korean is shit, and everything’s scary and you walk into summer camp expecting everyone to hate you and then you see _Lee Taeyong_.”

“Shut up,” said Taeyong.

“Lee Taeyong, sitting in a corner looking cuter than the really cute Pokemons. And then you turned out to be _nice?_ And were down to be my friend?” Yuta’s face was lit up by a youthful joy, like he was reliving their meeting as he spoke. “God. I was out for the count within like…two weeks, maybe?”

“Two _weeks?_ ” Taeyong couldn’t imagine it. Nakamoto Yuta, the cool Japanese kid, head over heels for him before camp was even over?

“Massive crush, first love, gay awakening, gay panic, felt like I was losing my mind, all the good shit…”

“Oh my god,” said Taeyong, stopping in his tracks. Yuta, loving him, always having been in love with him, his Yuta, gay panicking when they were fifteen because of him. It all seemed so surreal. “That’s…no way.”

Yuta grinned and said, “Way. I was so gone.”

Taeyong made a “wow” noise, forcing his feet to move forward again.

“Then eventually it was like, okay, this isn’t going away, might as well get used to it, so I tried, and I came out to you and that went over well,” said Yuta, picking his way over an enormous rock, “and when you came out to me and all that, I…fuck, I was so happy…”

Yuta turned around to help Taeyong over the protruding rock and they held both each other’s hands tightly. Taeyong, feeling a swell of the familiar urge to kiss Yuta right square in the smacker, and realizing that he _could_ , that he didn’t have to restrain himself anymore, leaned hard into Yuta’s hands to plant a kiss on his face before stepping over the rock and pulling Yuta along the path.

Yuta laughed prettily.

“Keep going,” said Taeyong.

“So,” said Yuta, “uh, a couple years later, I asked my sister for help, and she said I should tell you how I felt. So I’m over at Johnny’s house, and the year is ending and I feel like I can’t wait anymore, and I write out this letter, right? And I ask him for an envelope and he gives me one, that fat fucking yellow envelope, and I put the letter inside—”

“Did he know what it said?” Taeyong asked.

“No, no,” said Yuta. “Johnny had no idea. He thought I was studying or whatever. So I bring it to school, but…I couldn’t give it to you myself…” Yuta’s voice grew softer and he said, “Why couldn’t I give it to you myself…?”

“I was late that day. I overslept,” said Taeyong, and Yuta snapped his fingers. “Right! You were late to school, so I gave the envelope to Johnny and said, hey, give this to Taeyong when you see him…”

“And Johnny never fucking gave it to me,” Taeyong said.

Yuta looked straight ahead. “I’ll beat him up.”

“Don’t beat him up. If you were using his envelopes, then he must have mixed them up or something.”

“He wrote our names on it, though! To remind himself!”

“He’s a mess, he can’t remember anything even if it’s right in front of his face,” said Taeyong, and Yuta nodded begrudgingly.

“So Johnny takes my letter,” Yuta said, “mixes it up with another envelope, and ends up giving you…”

“Face masks, yeah,” said Taeyong.

They could hear the falls in the distance, and Yuta’s pace was picking up slightly, though he didn’t seem to realize. He turned an earnest look to Taeyong.

“So I yelled at you in the hallway for nothing?” he said.

Taeyong blinked as the memory came over him. “You were mad at me because you had just confessed your love and all I could say was, like, ‘ _oh that’s nice…’_ ”

“Because you,” said Yuta, “thought I had given you fucking face masks.”

“Forget what I said. We’re both beating Johnny up when we get back to Seoul.”

“To be fair, we wouldn’t be here if not for Johnny,” said Yuta thoughtfully, and then suddenly his face changed and his steps slowed.

“Yuta?”

“The waterfall,” Yuta said, and pointed.

Taeyong looked ahead and he could see it—a little viewing point cleared at the edge of the trail and beyond it, the river churning into white froth and then disappearing.

They walked to the ledge together and could see, over and down, the three tiers of the waterfall, tumbling first into a pool on the middle shelf and then out again into the river below. The flash and spark of the sunlight on the water was almost too bright to look at, but the spray on their faces was cool.

“Look,” said Yuta, pointing down at another ledge further down, “it’s the people that walked by us earlier,” and Taeyong could see the man with the red shirt at the viewing point, arms gesturing wildly as he detailed some fascinating fun fact to the nodding tour group.

They looked out over the falls, shoulder to shoulder. The group below them left. Taeyong pulled some mango strips out of his backpack and offered one to Yuta, who chewed on it happily.

“So that guy you’ve been claiming to have a crush on?” said Yuta. “Did you make him up?”

Taeyong made a face. “It was you, Yuta. Fucking hell.”

“ _Me...?_ ”

“Do you know,” said Taeyong, turning to face him, “how annoying it was when you would ask me if it was Jaehyun, or Taeil or Johnny and I’d just sit there thinking, _IT’S YOU, STUPID IDIOT, I AM STUPID IN LOVE WITH YOU._ ”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Yuta asked in a high, almost hysterical voice. Taeyong groaned.

“I wanted to, but you—you were always saying you didn’t need no man, and couldn’t see yourself in a relationship, and you said at truth or dare that you’d never had feelings for any of your friends, and I’m a coward—”

“Taeyong! I didn’t say I never had feelings for any of my friends! I said I never had feelings for any of my friends without them knowing!”

Taeyong looked at him openmouthed, and Yuta said, “I thought you knew, I thought you’d known all this time. I thought you’d known for years.”

Taeyong put his head in his hands and Yuta continued, “And _Taeyong_ —ugh! If I ever said I couldn’t see myself in a relationship, it was because—because—! I knew I’d never love anyone but you, and I knew I’d never want anyone but you. I’ve _tried_ to, believe me, but I just _couldn’t_. It’s literally been a third of my entire life and you’re still all I’ve ever wanted.”

Taeyong stared at him speechlessly.

“I know it sounds, like, cheesy,” said Yuta, “but it’s true. And since I thought you didn’t want me back, I figured I’d just be a bachelor forever and spend the rest of my days showering you with as much affection as I could and making you feel loved.”

“You did,” said Taeyong, feeling tears rising in his throat, “you do, but I _do_ want you back,” and Yuta shushed him, caressing his cheek.

“I know, I know, baby, I know.”

“I tried to tell you like a hundred million times. On Valentine’s Day, and then on White Day—”

“Wait, seriously?”

“And in letters like the one you wrote me, and at the wedding…”

Yuta blinked slowly and he said, “When you kissed me at the wedding?”

“I just wanted you to know how much I loved you,” Taeyong said rather miserably.

Yuta’s eyes roamed over Taeyong’s face to settle on his lips, and then he said, “Yeah, well, you damn near killed me.”

Taeyong gaped at him. Yuta’s expression was matter-of-fact, as if this was obvious.

“ _I_ damn near killed—are you kidding? _You_ almost killed _me!_ What do you mean, I damn near killed you?”

“I mean I couldn’t figure out why you would do that,” said Yuta. “When you didn’t feel that way about me. And when you knew how I felt about you. I thought—I thought I was some kind of joke to you or something.” He looked at Taeyong sideways, almost apologetically, as if he felt awful for ever even thinking it. “Because you always seemed to take for granted the fact that I was, like, hopelessly in love with you, you know? And when you kissed me at the wedding, just for kicks, just as like, part of a game, I felt like…some toy or something. And then I started to think, oh, he’s probably drunk, and I knew I had started the whole let’s-go-along-with-it-when-people-ask-if-we’re-boyfriends thing, and it didn’t seem like that big a deal, but, like, fuck, it hurt that you would…” He looked out at the falls, squinting into the sunlight. “I don’t know, play with my feelings or whatever.”

“I never wanted to play with your feelings. Never,” said Taeyong.

Yuta nodded, raising a hand to the back of Taeyong’s neck. “I know that now. I know.”

“Is that why you’ve been…distant from me lately?” Taeyong said hesitantly.

“Distant?” Yuta’s fingertips were tracing circles at the nape of Taeyong’s neck. “Like, the stuff you said about me not touching you and not hugging you?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong said, “that, and you didn’t talk to me like you used to, I mean, about leaving beauty school, and things that were bothering you, and you didn’t smile at me like you used to…”

“Well…” Yuta thought for a moment, and the rush of the waterfall filled the silence. Then he spoke again. “I mean, yeah, I was kind of hurt by the random kiss, and plus I felt like you didn’t talk to _me_ anymore either…”

“What?”

Yuta tried not to smile. “You know, you had this big mystery man in your life and you wouldn’t tell me who he was, and—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Taeyong.

“And you were _quieter_ , Tae, you were, I get now that you were…processing all this, all your feelings, but baby, you weren’t yourself. You haven’t been yourself for months. You said it was because of the song competition, and then you said it was because of your crush, and I figured you were just under a lot of stress but…you weren’t as playful as you normally are, you weren’t as _happy_. It made me feel like something was wrong.”

“Fuck,” whispered Taeyong. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…for it to be like that.”

Yuta shook his head and said with a laugh, “I mean, I just wanted you to get some goddamn sleep, I kept hoping that would solve everything.”

“God, and I’m sorry I yelled at you about the bed—”

“It’s okay. Tae, it’s okay. I’m sorry,” said Yuta, “that I yelled at you about the bed. The thing is…” He looked around, giggling a little. “I did feel like you weren’t talking to me as much, and I did feel like something was up, but if _I_ ever seemed distant lately, it was mostly because…it was just…” Yuta hung his head. “I mean, Tae, I couldn’t even be in the same room as you without remembering you kissing me. It was torture. I was a mess. And you wanted me to sleep in the same _bed_ with you and be a functional human being, fuck no. Like, before the wedding, I was okay to be close to you, I wanted to be close to you, obviously, but once I knew…what it _felt_ like…”

Taeyong couldn’t help but cut Yuta off midsentence, because he knew exactly what Yuta meant, and he knew what kissing him felt like, and what not being able to kiss him felt like, and he didn’t want to think about any of that, he just wanted Yuta’s lips on his.

When they broke apart for a breath Taeyong whispered, “I was so scared. I thought I was losing you or something.”

Yuta pulled away and put his hands on either side of Taeyong’s head, looking him in the eyes. Taeyong blinked up at him. His face, dewy with mist from the falls, sparkled in the little flashes of light reflected off the water.

“The day I gave you my letter,” Yuta said, “no, the day I tried to give you my letter, and yelled at you in the hallway, I told you I was scared of losing you and you said, ‘ _Why would you be scared of losing me? I’m right here_.’ You remember?”

Taeyong remembered.

“Tae, I’m right here,” said Yuta, “I’ve been right here this whole time. I’ve been yours this whole time.”

Taeyong must have been more exhausted than he knew, because on the bus ride home he quickly fell asleep on Yuta’s shoulder, and only woke up briefly while Yuta was hoisting him onto his back, piggy-back style, telling him, “Shush, let me do something cute, you weigh like two grains of rice” in response to his half-asleep mutterings. When he awoke fully some time later, he was tucked in bed underneath a single sheet, while the heavy covers had been peeled back to the other side of the bed, and the ceiling fan was whirring above him. He sat up. His shoes were in the corner, the sunlight coming in the room was slanted, and the ocean outside the window was a thick green-blue.

_Yuta_. Yuta. Where was he? Had that morning really happened? “Yuta?” he said, a little panicked.

“Tae!” Yuta said from the other room, and then there he was, appearing in the doorway and running around to Taeyong’s side of the bed so he could kneel down beside him and press a kiss to Taeyong’s open mouth.

“Oh!” said Taeyong, and everything aligned and settled back into place.

Yuta folded his arms along the edge of the bed, sitting back on his heels. “I knew you would wake up and think you’d dreamed everything and freak out or something. I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Mmmm,” said Taeyong, “maybe.”

“I was literally just about to walk out the door to get food,” said Yuta. “I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up because you didn’t eat lunch, but I didn’t want to not be here when you woke up, so I kept waiting, but then _I_ was hungry, so I thought I’d just go super fast.” He seemed to have showered and changed, but Taeyong was still in the sticky clothes from the hike.

“It’s okay. You’re here now,” said Taeyong, looking around. There was a sheet of paper lying on the other side of the bed, almost blending in with the white bedcovers. The Hann Hotels logo was emblazoned at the top. “ _Gone to get food. Call me if you wake up. Love you so much. XOXO Your Yuta_ ,” it said.

“I like that,” said Taeyong absently.

Yuta looked at the note with him. “What?”

“The _XOXO Your Yuta_ thing. Especially the ‘your’ part,” said Taeyong.

“Then I’ll tattoo it on my forehead,” said Yuta.

Taeyong laughed. “Don’t do that.”

“Watch me.”

Taeyong reached for his water bottle, which Yuta had put on the nightstand next to him, and gulped half of it down. “How long was I asleep?”

“One hundred years, Sleeping Beauty. They said only true love’s kiss could wake you.”

“So why didn’t you kiss me and wake me?” said Taeyong with a pout.

“Because.” Yuta reached up to brush back a strand of hair from Taeyong’s face. “You look so pretty when you’re sleeping.”

“Yeah, well, I’m awake now. What time is it?”

“Like four thirty,” said Yuta, and Taeyong looked at him in horror.

“Four— _four thirty?_ ” He began to struggle out of bed, but Yuta pushed him back, saying, “Whoa, whoa there…”

“I wasted the whole afternoon. We have to go hike Hallasan,” said Taeyong, “and Sunrise Peak, and the caves, and the things you wanted to do…”

Yuta said his name several times until finally he fell silent.

“Tae, the only thing I want to do is be with you,” he said. “I don’t care if we don’t leave this room.”

They kissed for a while and then Taeyong said, “We have to leave this room, though, because I’m hungry as fuck,” and Yuta laughed.

“Yeah. Me too. Do you want to go have, like, a nice dinner somewhere? Or just bring takeout back?”

Taeyong glanced around the room. The curtains were billowing steadily in the air currents drifting down from the fan. The sunlight on the wood floors was lengthening, turning gold.

“If it’s okay,” he said, looking at Yuta, “I sort of just want to be alone with you.”

Yuta sighed, smiling beautifully, and said, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Yuta went to find food while Taeyong showered. He felt like the whole world had been switched out for a mostly identical but vastly more lovely version of itself while he’d been asleep. Whereas this morning everything had been an annoyance, now everything gave cause for joy. The stream of water cascading over him reminded him of the waterfall, and the hotel shampoo smelled like spring, and the ocean was just visible through a little eye-level window in the shower stall that he hadn’t really noticed before. When the soap slipped out of his hands, he laughed and gave it a kick, and laughed more when it went spinning across the shower floor and bounced off the wall. Even the tank top and sweatpants he put on seemed softer than usual, and the sea breeze on the balcony was warm, and felt like an embrace.

He was just starting to get impatient for Yuta to return when a pair of hands grabbed him from behind and a voice shouted in his ear, “Boo!”

Taeyong screamed, whipped around, pushed Yuta, yelled at him for sneaking up on him, asked how he’d managed to get through the door and out onto the balcony without making a single noise, kissed him, and then asked what he’d brought for dinner. He’d brought pheasant dumplings with millet rice cakes for dessert, and they sat cross-legged across from each other on the balcony to eat them.

“So I did a lot of thinking while I was out and I reached a conclusion,” said Yuta while he chewed on a dumpling.

“A conclusion?” said Taeyong.

Yuta nodded solemnly. “Yeah. It’s that I’m in love with a fucking dumbass.”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“I was so, so painfully obviously head over heels for you,” said Yuta, “and you didn’t notice a single thing. Like, I’m thinking thought it, and Taeyong, it is just not possible that a smart, clever boy like you would never have realized. Which leads me to the conclusion: you’re actually a dumbass.”

Taeyong scowled and said, “It was not painfully obvious. Get that smug look off your face.”

“All I’ve done my whole life was flirt with you,” said Yuta. “Called you pretty. Called you cute. Called you baby, called you soulmate, called you mine, called you the most precious thing in the world, the most beautiful boy in the world. Sang you love songs, cuddled you constantly, told you you’re everything to me…”

Taeyong started to cringe as Yuta reeled off all the things he’d done over the years and it became clearer that he was right, Taeyong was a dumbass. “Yeah, but you never acted like you were serious!”

“Well, I couldn’t go _that_ hard, I didn’t want to be obnoxious. You never seemed to want to talk about it, me being in love with you, so I just…”

“I would have loved to talk about it,” said Taeyong, “if I had _known._ ”

“All right, let me ask you this,” said Yuta, and Taeyong bit into a dumpling. “Remember February birthdays this year?”

Taeyong groaned and put a hand over his eyes.

“What?” Yuta laughed.

“God, no, not February birthdays. Yuta, I wanted you to kiss me so bad,” Taeyong said, and Yuta slapped his knee laughing. Taeyong said, “I was so stressed that day, I don’t even want to talk about it.”

“When they dared me to close my eyes and figure out who you were just by touch, and said I’d have to kiss you for every guess I got wrong?”

“Yeah,” said Taeyong, hanging his head. “That.”

“Well imagine _my_ internal battle when I realized it was you right away and knew I had the chance to kiss you if I just guessed wrong on purpose,” Yuta said.

“Why didn’t you!”

Yuta made an incredulous noise. “Because! That would be! Deceitful! And weird!”

“I mean, yeah, but like…”

“That’s not the point. The point is, how the hell did you think I knew it was you so fast? Witchcraft? X-ray vision?”

“I thought…” Taeyong stopped. He hadn’t thought about it at all, actually. It had only seemed natural, that Yuta would know it was him.

“I literally had the shape of your lips memorized,” Yuta said, “and you thought, nahh, it’s not that homo.”

Taeyong touched his lips. “Well that’s—you used to draw me a lot in high school, and you did my makeup all the time, I figured you just recognized my lips because of that!”

“And why did you think I always used to draw you? Why did you think I liked doing your makeup so much?”

“Because,” said Taeyong, “you like my…face?”

Yuta gave him a look of pure, absolute, boundless love, and he said, “Taeyong, do you hear yourself?”

“Okay. Okay!” said Taeyong, grabbing for the package of rice cakes, “I admit it. I’m an idiot. Give me a rice cake.”

“They’re _millet_ rice cakes, they’re a Jeju specialty,” Yuta told him again, rustling inside the plastic to pull out a cake and hand it to Taeyong.

“Millet rice cakes. Thank you. But seriously, I always just thought you had like…a soft spot for me or something,” said Taeyong, and bit into the rice cake. Yuta, his mouth full of dumpling, widened his eyes and nodded as if to say, _I do_ , but Taeyong continued, “Like people feel about their dog, you know? Snuggle them and squish their faces and call them pet names, and say they’re the best prettiest doggie in the world and stuff.”

Yuta finally managed to get down the giant bite of dumpling, squinted into Taeyong’s face and said, “You thought I felt about you like people feel about their _dogs?_ ”

“Well…I mean, no…”

“ _Taeyong!_ ”

“You’re just a really loving person,” Taeyong said, looking down at his rice cake, “and you show love to everyone around you. Like, it’s one of the things I love most about you. But I figured…that I just got a concentrated dose of the love because I was your best friend.”

Yuta smiled while he chewed, his cheeks round, looking like a cartoon character. After he swallowed he said, “Well, you were partly correct.”

Taeyong finished the rice cake and reached for another dumpling. In the low light, Yuta was glowing like a beacon. He put a hand in front of his face and Taeyong realized the sun was in his eyes. “Oh, Yuta, you’re—” he said, and scooted sideways so both of their faces were halved in light and shadow.

“No, no, you’re fine,” said Yuta. “Taeyong, stop.”

“The sun was right in your face.”

“Well now your back is to the ocean,” Yuta argued, and Taeyong said, “You’re all the view I need,” and Yuta’s eyes crescented and he went, “Eewwww,” and they both descended into a fit of giggles.

“What, you can say cheesy stuff but I’m not allowed to say cheesy stuff?” said Taeyong.

“I don’t think I’ve said anything that cheesy,” Yuta said, “ _yet_.”

Yuta straightened one leg as Taeyong leaned back against the bars along the balcony railing. Yuta wasn’t squinting into the light anymore. Taeyong felt pleased.

“Tae, did you…” Yuta looked at the millet rice cake in his hands while his thought formulated. Taeyong waited. After a second, Yuta shook his head and looked up. “Can you just tell me everything? I want to hear everything.”

“Everything,” said Taeyong.

Yuta nodded.

“Well, you know,” Taeyong started, “that when I met you, I didn’t really know I was gay yet.”

“Right,” said Yuta.

“And for a while I didn’t think I could be…into you, like it didn’t even cross my mind. But I wanted to hang out with you 24/7,” said Taeyong, “and be closer to you, and I wanted you to like me so bad. Like, not in a gay way, just—I wanted you to think I was cool so, so bad.”

Yuta laughed without opening his mouth. Taeyong laughed too and said, “Yeah, it turned out it was pretty gay. I just didn’t know it then. I figured…we had a special best friend bond, you know? Just one of those things. Straight things. And then, we were both gay, and that was even better, because it made us closer, and we could understand each other and we were the same…” Taeyong exhaled and sat forward, pressing his fingers to his temples. “Holy shit, I was so _gay_ for you…”

“Yeah, that’s pretty gay,” Yuta admitted, and Taeyong kicked at his outstretched foot, mostly as an excuse to rest his own ankle against Yuta’s leg.

“But I just didn’t _know_ yet, I mean, you didn’t date anyone else, I never had to get jealous or…” Taeyong’s eyes widened and he said, “God, how did you survive me talking about the guys I went out with in college?”

Yuta breathed in, looked up, and said, “I didn’t,” which made Taeyong let out a sad laugh, and Yuta said, “No, no, it was fine. I mean, it sucked, but it was fine. I had kind of made my peace with everything at that point. Like I said, the plan was just to fly solo and love you any way I could, even if…it was just super platonic and lowkey painful. Or whatever. I don’t know. Mostly I was just happy that you trusted me enough to talk about that stuff to me, which,” he said, his eyebrows drawing together, “is why I was _really_ confused when you wouldn’t tell me who you liked over the past few months. I figured you must have, like, gotten mature and decided it might hurt my feelings if you talked about that stuff to me, but it was just weird…”

“Yeah, the reason it was weird is because it was you,” said Taeyong.

“Yeah.”

“If I had known,” Taeyong said, “I would have been so, so much more careful not to hurt you…”

“Stop. Stop it! You didn’t know.”

“Yeah,” said Taeyong. “Yeah.”

Yuta held out the last rice cake towards him. Taeyong took it, tore it, and handed half back to him.

“So, having people to go on dates with was nice, sometimes,” Taeyong said, “but, yeah, it was always like I would rather hang out with you than them, and I’d be bored and miss you, and I just figured I didn’t like those boys as much as they liked me…and I stopped dating as much, and then I guess I stopped dating completely…and pretty soon after that the weird feelings started…”

Yuta hooted, “The _weird_ feelings?”

“The gay feelings,” said Taeyong. “The tingly…kiss…fuck, you know, the _feelings_.”

Yuta seemed to think this was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. “The TINGLY GAY KISS FEELINGS…”

“I wanted to make out with you, okay? I wanted to make out with you. You sang me an IU song over FaceTime one night,” Taeyong explained, “like, a love song, and I wanted you to mean the words you were singing, which it was weird because I hadn’t ever thought about you in that way, not, you know, consciously. And then right after that I started wanting to make out with you and, and, stuff, and I was confused, so for a while I ignored it…figured maybe it would go away…”

“You’re telling me,” said Yuta, “we owe you realizing you were in love with me to IU?”

Taeyong considered this. “I guess. A little. Really we owe that to Ten.”

Yuta’s eyebrows jumped. “ _Ten?_ ”

“Ten read me like a book,” said Taeyong. “He took one look at me and was like, ‘ _Poor baby, you’re in love with him_ ,’ and I swear to god, the world turned upside down and then turned upside up again and I was like, holy shit. I’m in love with him, I’m in love with Yuta.”

“Ten? Ten did that?” Yuta said, looking around in shock. “Oh my god. How am I going to thank him? I have to buy him a car or something. Oh my god. Ten!”

“If Johnny’s the antagonist of this story, then Ten’s the hero,” Taeyong laughed, and Yuta made a fist, glowering into the distance.

“ _Johnny,_ ” he hissed darkly.

Taeyong laughed harder. “Nooo, no, stop, Johnny didn’t do it on purpose…”

“I know. I know. I know that Johnny did nothing wrong besides be incredibly disorganized. He still deserves to be drawn and quartered for his crimes.”

“Stop!”

They laughed for a few minutes and then Taeyong said, “Johnny—did you say anything to him yet? To any of them?”

“No,” said Yuta. “Not yet. Did you?”

Taeyong shook his head. “Uh-uh.”

“It’s kind of nice,” Yuta said, “keeping it to ourselves, just for…a little while.”

Taeyong smiled. He knew what Yuta meant. It was like a secret just for the two of them.

Yuta added, “Can you imagine, though, what Mark Lee and Hyuck are gonna do when they find out?”

Taeyong groaned and said, “Mark is never going to stop saying I told you so.” He started to gather the empty food containers.

“Mark?” Yuta picked up the dumpling box and stood up.

“Yeah, because right after I realized I loved you,” said Taeyong as they carried the trash inside, “I ran crying to Mark about it and he was like, ‘ _oh, just tell him, it’ll be fine, maybe he’ll be into it_.’”

Yuta opened the cabinet door to the trash can for Taeyong to toss the plastic in. “Kinda hit the nail on the head with that one.”

“Yyyeah…Where’s my water bottle?”

“Think it’s still in the bedroom. What’d you do then?”

“Well at first,” said Taeyong, “I swore I was never going to tell you because I was too embarrassed…”

“God, Taeyong, I _hate_ you.”

“…then decided I wanted to tell you like two seconds later, tried and failed to work up the nerve to say it to your face several times, wrote a love letter, you threw it away, rescued the love letter, it got eaten by Max…”

“What? _What?_ I did _what?_ ”

Taeyong picked up his water bottle off the nightstand. “Do you remember when I texted you freaking out about the recycling? And you said you’d been thinking about the sea turtles and recycled everything in the house?”

Yuta, who had clambered onto the bed and was lying propped up on his elbows, gave Taeyong a horrified look. “Oh god.”

“You recycled my love letter.”

“No, Christ, please, please tell me I didn’t,” Yuta said, and Taeyong nodded.

“You did. Then the second time, I left it on your bed,” he went on, holding the water bottle out to Yuta, “and…”

“Max?” Yuta took the bottle and drank from it.

“Max. He destroyed it. Targeted annihilation.”

“Damn,” said Yuta and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “With the Pocky…?”

“Yeah, the Pocky. It was rough.” Taeyong took the water bottle back, set it on the nightstand and climbed onto the bed next to Yuta. “Take three, we’re at the wedding, I’ve written a new love letter and I’m all excited to give it to you because it’s the perfect time, the perfect place, and I go to take it out of my jacket pocket and it’s gone. It’s just gone. I _lost_ it.”

“Oh, Tae...”

“Mark and I kind of,” said Taeyong, “made up the wallet thing on the spot.”

Yuta’s eyes widened slightly. “The wallet…”

“And at that point, I was just so fed up, with myself and with the universe and with everything, that I thought, I don’t care what I have to do, I’m going to show him I love him any way I can, and, well...”

“You kissed me,” Yuta said, chin in his hands.

Taeyong nodded. “I kissed you.”

“You kissed me,” said Yuta, kicking his feet in the air behind him, “and you told me you loved me in a bunch of letters you never sent, but it took a single bed, a rainstorm and a slippery rock to get you to finally say it out loud?”

“I wanted it to be perfect,” said Taeyong. “The confession, I kept trying to make it perfect.”

Yuta folded his hands on the bed and rested his chin on them. He looked up at Taeyong silently through his lashes.

“I’ll be…working on that,” said Taeyong.

Yuta smiled, looking satisfied.

Taeyong fell forward onto his elbows so his body was crouched over his knees. Their faces leveled. Taeyong held Yuta’s gaze until he felt like he was about to drown in it, and then let his eyes comb over the rest of his face, his high cheekbones, lips, past them to his Adam’s apple and the slanting collarbones emerging from the neck of his T-shirt. Yuta’s smile had softened. When Taeyong raised his gaze to Yuta’s again, Yuta’s eyes were still on his own.

“Didn’t it seem weird to you,” Yuta said, his voice soft, “how I reacted when you kissed me at the wedding?”

Taeyong frowned, looking down at his hands. “Well, no, I just thought I had gone over the line and made you uncomfortable…”

“No, no. I mean right when you kissed me.” Yuta raised his body off the bed and moved closer to Taeyong on his hands and knees. “When I kissed you back?”

“Oh…” Taeyong sat up, and they leaned into one another.

“I didn’t want to,” said Yuta, folding his legs underneath him. “I told myself, _don’t go there, push him away_ , but I couldn’t—couldn’t help it.”

The way Yuta’s lips moved when he spoke, Taeyong thought, was so pretty. Almost graceful.

“Didn’t that send up any red flags there for you? Any…sign that something was up?” Yuta whispered.

Taeyong, without thinking, felt himself tip forward a little. “You know how you said you were a mess after,” he said, “because it was torture not being able to kiss me once you knew how it felt?”

Yuta mirrored Taeyong, tilting his face towards him. He was magnetism. Taeyong could feel his pull through every inch of himself.

“I was,” said Yuta.

“Well I was too,” said Taeyong, “I was a mess, it was torture to think of the way you kissed me, so I just…didn’t.”

Yuta swallowed. “You didn’t.”

“I couldn’t.” Taeyong couldn’t look away from Yuta’s lips. “It made me want you too bad.”

Yuta murmured, “I know the feeling.”

Their mouths came together like waves this time, crashing against and then melting into each other. They rose off their heels to get closer, kneeling on the bed, Taeyong’s arms around Yuta’s neck and Yuta’s hands at his back and shoulders. Before, Yuta had guided Taeyong through their kisses; now Taeyong pressed his mouth harder to Yuta’s and was surprised to feel the give of his lips, the way they parted wider to let him in. He grazed the inside of Yuta’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, and when Yuta yielded to the pressure he reached further, deeper. Even as Yuta accepted Taeyong’s increasing urgency, his hands dropped lower down Taeyong’s back, caressing his hips and over his ass, gripping the backs of his thighs. He lifted Taeyong’s legs and brought them to encircle his waist, slowly sitting back down while Taeyong tightened his legs around him, his face still tilted upwards into Taeyong’s kiss.

Taeyong felt his heart skip a beat when Yuta, who was allowing Taeyong’s teeth to tease at his bottom lip, answered a gentle nibble with a hard bite. Taeyong inhaled sharply and Yuta responded with more insistence, sucking at his lip, at his tongue. He drank in the moan that Taeyong let out, hands working at his thighs, tongue diving further past his lips. Taeyong trailed his hands from the back of Yuta’s neck onto his shoulders, then down over his chest and abdomen. “Yuta,” he breathed, but the sound was lost in the kiss, and he pushed up the hem of Yuta’s shirt to run his fingertips over his stomach, feeling the muscles tense under his touch. “Yuta,” he said again, louder. Yuta’s hands left Taeyong’s thighs to help him draw his shirt over his head, and he only spared a split second for their mouths to meet again before grabbing for Taeyong’s tank top and pulling it off easily. Then they collided once more, mouths demanding, hands leaving trails of heat on skin.

They were chest to chest and wrapped up in each other when Taeyong began to roll his hips into Yuta’s at the same rhythm in which their lips and tongues were moving. Yuta gave a high, sweet moan, almost a whine, and let his hands fall to Taeyong’s hips before breaking the kiss and pulling back, openmouthed, panting, a silent question in his eyes.

“I want you,” said Taeyong. “Please. Yuta.”

“Tae, I don’t—did you—I didn’t bring anything with us,” Yuta said, “I don’t have…”

“I don’t care. We’ll make it work.”

Taeyong could feel Yuta breathing shallowly, his chest rising and falling against his own, slowing when he spoke. “Maybe we can find a store in town. There’s got to—”

Taeyong shook his head. “No, no, I don’t want to wait, I—do you? Want to wait?”

Yuta let out a soft laugh. “No. But Taeyong, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know,” Taeyong said, putting one hand on the side of his face. Yuta blinked up at him, and he bent to place kisses along Yuta’s jaw. He felt Yuta’s exhale on his neck. “I trust you. I don’t want to wait. I’ve waited,” he said between kisses, “and waited, and waited.”

Yuta’s breath trembled. Taeyong raised his head, brushing Yuta’s hair back from his face. There was nothing more beautiful in the world than Yuta’s flushed cheeks and his starry eyes, his pupils dilated in the dying light.

Yuta tilted his face up, lips just brushing Taeyong’s, and then kissed him gently. It felt like an affirmation, a surrender, a prayer. Taeyong kissed him back with all the love in his body and Yuta put a hand between Taeyong’s shoulders, slowly leaning him backwards to lay him down on the bed. Taeyong, underneath him, enclosed in his arms, had never felt safer.


	15. shaking heads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shaking heads / foxes

The last thing Taeyong remembered thinking before he fell asleep hours later was that he couldn’t wait to wake up the next morning and find himself in Yuta’s arms, with sunlight reaching over Yuta’s sleeping face, illuminating his skin, dancing on his eyelashes, everything still and quiet except the calls of the birds and the sound of Yuta’s breathing.

That wasn’t quite how it went. He did wake up in Yuta’s arms, but it wasn’t to sunlight and birdcalls, it was to the sounds of both their phones going off on the floor again, and again, and again. Amid the impossibly loud clamor Taeyong recognized his group chat alert sound. He groaned and tried to bury his head deeper into Yuta’s shoulder to block it out, but the noise was vicious, and unrelenting. Yuta grunted, mumbled something incoherent, and struggled to peel Taeyong’s arms off his body. Taeyong made a noise of discontentment and Yuta kissed his eyelid, then his forehead, before crawling off the bed and digging their phones out of the pockets of their sweatpants on the ground. A second later he flipped the Do Not Disturb buttons on and there was quiet again.

Taeyong whined and reached blindly for Yuta. It was barely light out; he could still see a few stars in the lavender-gray sky outside the balcony. Yuta placed Taeyong’s phone on the nightstand and climbed back into bed, resting his head on Taeyong’s chest and curling into him. The light from Yuta’s phone shined in Taeyong’s eyes. He squeezed them shut and let his head fall sideways.

A moment later Yuta said, “Oh my god. Taeyong,” and patted at his stomach.

“Hm?”

Yuta sat up. “Taeyong, the boys are—there’s—look at this—”

Taeyong pushed himself up and peered over Yuta’s shoulder at his screen. It was just past five in the morning. The group chat was a flood of emojis, swearing, and keyboard smashes. He rubbed his eyes and squinted closer while Yuta scrolled up.

Yuta stopped at a link to a YouTube video that Doyoung had sent to the chat, followed by a message that said, “ _SPARE FUCKING EXPLANATION MA’AM???_ ” with the upturned palms emoji. Underneath it, Jaehyun had replied, “ _doyoung what are you doing in the gc at 5 in the fucking morning_ ” and then, “ _WHATIHCOGNSKLDJBOD?????”_

“Ohh, my god,” said Taeyong. Together, he and Yuta read the title of the video aloud: “ _2 Bros Get In Screaming Match And Realize They’re Gay 4 Each Other_.”

They looked at each other. “Noooo, no, no,” said Taeyong.

“We have to watch it,” said Yuta.

“What if we don’t have to,” said Taeyong.

“But we do,” said Yuta and clicked the link.

Taeyong heard his own voice, shrill and tinny, come out of the phone speakers, “—nothing fair about any of this—” and Taeyong shrieked, ripping the phone from Yuta’s hand and throwing it onto the futon on the other side of the room. “Taeyong!” Yuta said, and leapt off the bed.

“NOOOOO,” Taeyong groaned. He could hear his voice still coming from the phone, getting louder, shriller.

“Shh, shush, it’s okay, come here,” said Yuta as he sat down next to Taeyong on the bed, head bowed over the screen, and Taeyong hid his face in Yuta’s back, peeking over his shoulder.

The camera was trained on Taeyong from the angle that the teenager had been standing in. Yuta stood across from him, his face not wholly in view. The camera shook slightly and the perspective broadened to include both of them as Taeyong, pale and dripping, shouted, “…like sleeping in the same bed with me will put you at risk for hepatitis…”

Yuta’s eyes and mouth opened wide and he said, “What the fuck?” and then they were shouting over each other, both of their faces getting redder and redder. Message alerts appeared at the top of Yuta’s screen, and he swiped them away.

“I just wanted you to get some sleep,” he was yelling in the video, and Taeyong, whose mouth hadn’t stopped running, went on, “But then we wake up, and the no homo shit starts again!”

Yuta laughed, his hand idly rubbing at Taeyong’s knee. “Holy shit, I forgot you said that.”

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong moaned into his shoulder, “I’m so sorry.”

Yuta leaned his head back and kissed Taeyong’s neck. “Baby, it’s okay. Just watch.”

Taeyong was sobbing openly in the video, and Yuta’s face was miserable. “I’m sorry I made things weird,” Taeyong said through tears, “and you know what else, I’m sorry for being in love with you, I’m sorry I can’t stop being in love with you…”

Someone in the hiking group gasped audibly and the camera dipped, aiming at Taeyong’s feet before refocusing on his face. Yuta’s hand had stilled on Taeyong’s knee.

“And there’s nothing I can do about it, and you know what, no, I don’t wish I could stop,” Taeyong babbled, barely stopping for a breath, “I take back what I said, I don’t ever want to stop loving you, no matter how hard it is I don’t want to ever love anyone but you, that would just be like…wrong.”

Taeyong could see something dawning over Yuta’s face in the video, slowly, second by second—shock first and then something else, something bright and sweet and unsure. In the video Taeyong himself was staring at the ground, not seeing any of it. Yuta’s mouth opened, almost in slow motion, and Taeyong recognized what was on his face. Hope.

“You love me?” he said softly, and Taeyong, sounding desolate by comparison, answered, “Obviously.”

Yuta asked for his backpack, and Taeyong looked at him like he was wondering if he’d heard anything he just said. Then the letter appeared, and Yuta’s eyes softened. He handed it to Taeyong.

“It’s a letter that I wrote you in 2014. A love letter,” he said. Taeyong’s face was blank, dripping with rain. “I told Johnny to give it to you on our last exam day of high school, and I guess, instead of getting to you…it ended up in the back of Johnny’s closet instead.”

“It says you were in love with me.”

“Taeyong, I am in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for the last nine years.”

Behind the camera the teenager whispered in a very low voice, “ _The plot thickens_.”

Yuta turned his head to Taeyong and said, “Did you hear that?”

Taeyong, who had wrapped his arms around Yuta’s middle, smacked his ribs with one hand and said, “Shhh! We’re about to kiss!”

“Oh my god, kiss him already,” said a female voice, a little louder than the teenager had been, and Taeyong said something about the face masks, and then they fell towards each other, lips meeting, eyes closing, and the camera blurred as the teenager started to scream amid the cheers, “YES! YES! FUCK IT UP! FUCK IT—” and then the video cut off.

They both stared at the black screen for a moment. Message notifications were still rolling in, one after the other, but Yuta was ignoring them. He clicked out of fullscreen and brought up the video’s details. The kid who had posted it was making finger guns in the user icon, and his name, “Zhong Chenle,” was written out in Chinese, English, and Korean.

“Taeyong,” whispered Yuta, “this shit has a hundred thousand views.”

“It WHAT?”

“It’s trending in Korea.”

Taeyong covered his face with his hands and screamed.

Yuta reached for him. “Hey. It’s okay. This is kind of hilarious.”

He pulled Taeyong’s hands away from his face and smiled to see Taeyong giggling, giggling hard in spite of himself. They bowed their foreheads together and laughed, for a while, eventually falling backwards into the pillows. Yuta bent over Taeyong to kiss him and they laughed against each other’s lips.

Finally their laughter slowed and they grinned at each other. The morning light was growing, pink and orange at the side of Yuta’s face. “I guess it’s not our secret anymore,” Taeyong murmured.

Yuta shook his head. “Nope. Definitely not.”

“The boys must be so confused,” Taeyong said, and Yuta nodded.

“We should text them back.”

“I know,” said Taeyong, blinking his eyes up at Yuta. “We should.”

They held each other’s gazes for a few long seconds. Then Taeyong raised his head to seal his mouth to Yuta’s again. Yuta kissed him sweetly, cradling the back of his head.

A few minutes passed and then finally Taeyong said, “The boys, we have to text the boys back, they’re probably losing their minds,” and they sat up against the headboard of the bed with their phones in their hands, shoulder to shoulder, heads and knees bent towards each other.

Taeyong scrolled back to the beginning of the conversation where Doyoung had sent the video and Jaehyun had keyboard smashed. For a few messages it was only the two of them, going back and forth, Doyoung saying, “ _that’s literally yuta and taeyong right?? i’m not insane right??_ ” and Jaehyun spewing “ _what in gay jesus’s name am i looking at_ ” until suddenly Sicheng came into the chat screaming, “ _SDJHGFSJDG I CALLED IT! TAEIL AND I CALLED THIS MONTHS AGO HOLY FUCKING SHIT OH MY GOD_ ”

“ _no you didn’t_ ” said Doyoung.

“ _yes We Did_ ”

Taeil messaged, “ _Yeah we did, we said like last fall they would get together someday & it was just a matter of time I honestly can’t say I’m surprised right now_”

“ _wdym ur NOT SURPRISED_ ”

“ _HANG ON I’M STILL WATCHING THE VIDEO DID YUTA JUST SAY HE’S BEEN IN LOVE WITH TAEYONG FOR 9 YEARS??_ ”

“ _akjsdhfdks_ ”

“ _where the fuck is johnny?_ ” said Jaehyun.

Doyoung said, “ _johnny that crusty ass pistachio shell i am speechless_ ”

“ _yuta, yong and johnny b like dumb dumber and dumbest rn_ ”

“ _Where are they?_ ”

“ _yuta GET IN HERE_ ”

“ _holy fuck_ ”

“ _yuta and taeyong i know you’re seeing these messages_ ”

“ _IF Y’ALL DON’T UNLOCK UR LIPS OR WHATEVER THE FUCK UR DOING AND GET IN THIS GODDAMN CHAT RIGH TNOW_ ”

Yuta, who was snickering softly, said, “No Mark Lee yet. He must still be asleep.”

“And no Johnny,” said Taeyong, typing a message. “ _uh hello it is i yong aka dumber_ ”

“ _TAEYONG_ ”

“ _TAEYONG??_ ”

“ _BITCH_ ”

“ _where’s yuta??_ ”

“ _care to explain what’s going on in this viral video featuring yourself_ ”

A message appeared from Yuta that said, “ _i’m right here and did y’all really have to do this at 5am bc we were fast asleep here in our nice soft cushy honeymoon suite single bed_ ”

“ _FUCK OUTTA HERE YUTA_ ,” said Sicheng.

Jaehyun said, “ _if u guys don’t explain what happened with u two in the next 8 seconds, i’m going over to ur house and wringing max’s fucking neck <3_”

“ _I’LL WRING YOUR FUCKING NECK YOU LITTLE SHIT_ ,” said Taeyong.

“ _everyone calm down omg_ ,” Yuta wrote. “ _the video is self explanatory 2 bros get in a screaming match and find out they’re in love with each other that’s literally what happened_ ”

Another text came in and Taeyong squeaked, fumbling his phone. “Johnny!” he said.

“Oh my god, it’s Johnny,” said Yuta.

Johnny had texted, “ _what the fuck is going on in this chat right now can u guys shut tf up_ ” and then right afterwards sent, “ _wait..the hell_ ”

Doyoung sent the link again and said, “ _johnny watch the video u fucking half-empty can of expired pickles_ ”

Johnny was gone for a few minutes, which the rest of the group spent interrogating Yuta and Taeyong about what had happened, and then reappeared with “ _WHAT……….THE FUCK IS THAT_ ”

“ _it’s me and tae confessing our love…cute right?_ ” Yuta said with several cutesy emojis.

Jaehyun said, “ _johnny pls confirm the nature of ur involvement in this mess?_ ”

“ _LIKE IN REAL LIFE? THAT’S NOT STAGED?”_ Johnny asked, ignoring Jaehyun.

“ _no tf it’s not staged lol taeyong literally had a breakdown in the middle of a tour of cheonjeyeon waterfall bc he’s in love with me and i was like no way dude i’m in love with u too_ ”

 _“UR IN LOVE W EACH OTHER?????? &$??$?_” Johnny said.

“ _You guys are all so shocked_ ,” sent Taeil with some laughing faces.

Doyoung said, “ _i still can’t believe this is happening_ ”

Johnny texted, “ _THAT LOVE LETTER DID NOT COME FROM MY CLOSET_ ”

Taeyong said, “ _yes it did johnny_ ”

“ _LMAOOOO_ ,” said Jaehyun.

“ _PLEASE NO I DON’T WANT TO BE THE FUCKING REASON YALL DIDN’T FIGURE OUT U LOVE EACH OTHER UNTIL NOW PLEASE_ ”

“ _i found it underneath a bunch of ur shit from high school when i was looking around for the envelope with our reservation information_ ,” said Taeyong. “ _i’m sorry johnny you’ve had yuta’s love letter to me in the back of your closet for five years_ ”

“ _it’s about time u deep cleaned ur shit_ ,” said Jaehyun.

“ _I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER YUTA ASKING ME TO GIVE U ANYTHING?? WHEN EVEN WAS THIS??”_

They managed to jog Johnny’s memory by reminding him of the fight they’d had on the last exam day of high school, and Johnny, after denying that it was possible for a few messages, finally said, “ _oh god. i just remembered that must have been around the time i lost the face masks i was going to give my mom as her bday present . wow_ ”

“ _yong did you ever use them?_ ” asked Doyoung.

“ _doyoung how is that even relevant_ ” said Sicheng, and Doyoung said, “ _damn i’m jw_ ”

“ _tbh i think i used them_ ”

“You did?” said Yuta, looking up.

“I thought they were from you,” said Taeyong.

“Aww.”

“Johnny’s spamming like hell, we have to absolve him of his guilt,” said Taeyong, returning to the chat where Johnny was sending a stream of regret and despair memes, interspersed with texts of “ _i’m so fucking sorry_ ” and “ _it was an accident i’m so sorry_ ” and “ _from now on i will learn to keep track of my shit please forgive me_ ”

Yuta texted back, “ _hmmmmm…what do we get out of it_ ” at the same time that Taeyong said, “ _johnny chill it doesn’t even matter anymore we’re too happy to care_ ”

“ _OMG_ ,” said Taeil, while Sicheng and Jaehyun keyboard smashed.

“Taeyong!” Yuta said. “We could have made him give us free cat kibbles at the pet store for a year or something!”

“Shut up, he already booked us this whole vacation,” Taeyong said. He wrote, “ _besides johnny if u hadn’t shipped us off to jeju we probably wouldn’t have figured it out, so ur responsibility for event a cancels out ur responsibility for event b :)_ ”

“ _yeah whatever ur forgiven_ ” Yuta typed.

Johnny replied with “ _THANK YOU_ ” and a string of praying hands.

Among the other boys’ interjections, a message came from Yuta that said, “ _anyway bye i have to go do couple things with the love of my life l8r haters!!!_ ” and Taeyong smiled, lowering his phone.

Yuta tossed his own phone to the foot of the bed. Taeyong set his on the nightstand and grasped for his water bottle. He shared it with Yuta, and then they curled up against the pillows, looking at each other with smiles on their faces.

“What kind of couple things did you want to do?” said Taeyong.

Yuta shrugged. “I don’t know. This.”

“Just sitting?”

“Sure,” said Yuta. “Whatever you want to do.”

“I like just sitting,” said Taeyong.

Yuta reached for Taeyong’s hand and played with his fingers. “How do you feel?”

“How do I feel?” When Yuta nodded, Taeyong said, “Honestly kind of fucking sore,” and laughed at the look of alarm on Yuta’s face. “It’s okay,” he said, “it’s a good sore. It’s just because I hadn’t done it in a while.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Yuta, last night…last night was so…”

A smile crept onto Yuta’s face as he waited for Taeyong to find the words.

“I’ve never felt…” Taeyong struggled. “I never knew it could be that…”

Yuta’s smile was going in the direction of a smirk. “Good?”

Taeyong exhaled. “Yeah. Just…incredible.”

Yuta wrapped his arms around him and pulled him up into his lap. “Can you believe,” he said, kissing Taeyong’s eyelashes gently, “that all these years I genuinely thought sex was overrated.”

“Fuck, so did I,” said Taeyong.

Yuta laughed.

“Yeah,” said Taeyong, “turns out it’s not…”

“It is with anyone but you,” said Yuta, and their lips met, settling easily into a rhythm, as if they’d had it down for years.

They spent most of the day lazing around the suite, talking, napping, drinking each other in, on the bed, on the balcony, in the bathtub, on the couch. Being able to have as much as he wanted of Yuta was intoxicating. As the hours stretched Taeyong began to feel a little delirious, like they were walking on top of clouds, and he knew Yuta felt it too, knew it by the way he couldn’t take his eyes off Taeyong, sometimes trailing off in the middle of a sentence to look at him. Once they realized they could order pancakes and noodles and chicken to the room with room service, life seemed to get even better, and then better still when one of them remembered the champagne and chocolates in the refrigerator.

“Honeymoon suite indeed,” said Yuta, bringing the box of chocolates out of the fridge. “Champagne now or later?”

“Mmm…later,” said Taeyong, slurping noodle soup out of his spoon.

“Okay, I’m going to feed you chocolates with your eyes closed,” said Yuta, “and you have to guess the filling flavor.”

“What do I get if I’m right?”

“Uhhhh…” Yuta’s eyes wandered around the room as he sipped on his noodle broth.

“One correct guess, one collarbone lick,” said Taeyong, and Yuta snorted, choking on the soup. Taeyong slapped him on the back and Yuta waved him away.

“Jesus,” said Yuta, “I was going to say I’d take your turn changing Max’s litterbox or something.”

“My version is a lot more appetizing for both of us,” said Taeyong.

“You got a collarbone kink I don’t know about?”

“No,” said Taeyong and kicked Yuta’s shin. “Yours are just pretty.”

“Okay, sure,” said Yuta, “one correct answer, one collarbone kiss, but the same goes for me. I’m playing too.”

“Fine.”

“Close your eyes,” said Yuta. Taeyong did, and a moment later felt the cold chocolate shell at his lips. He opened his mouth and bit into it. It was sweet and a little bland.

“Uh…buttercreeeam?”

“No, it’s actually vanilla cream,” said Yuta, showing him the label on the space in the box. They looked at each other and Yuta said, “Well, that’s disappointing.”

“It’s your turn,” said Taeyong, and Yuta closed his eyes. Taeyong picked what he hoped would be an easy one, and held it to Yuta’s mouth, letting his thumb brush over Yuta’s bottom lip.

“Caramel,” said Yuta without hesitation.

Taeyong groaned.

“What? It’s totally caramel. Is it not caramel?”

“You kind of missed a key detail there.”

“Wh—? Oh, salted caramel! Salt!”

“Too late,” said Taeyong mournfully, and Yuta said, “No it’s not! This is my game, I make the rules,” and Taeyong shook his head regretfully. “Nope. You guessed wrong. My turn.”

Yuta made a vexed noise, but the next moment, a chocolate nudged at Taeyong’s mouth. He chewed on it thoughtfully and opened his eyes.

“It’s a fruity one,” said Taeyong.

Yuta nodded. “Much like yourself.”

“I don’t think it’s citrus,” said Taeyong.

“Perhaps not,” said Yuta.

“Definitely not lemon. Maybe like a…like a…cherry cream?”

Anguish broke over Yuta’s face and he said, “ _Taeyong!_ ”

“ _What?_ ”

“Strawberry cream, Taeyong,” Yuta moaned, “your favorite,” and Taeyong gripped his head in his hands.

“Why is this game so difficult, I thought it would be a piece of cake,” said Yuta.

“Shush. I’ll do an easy one.”

Yuta closed his eyes obediently and Taeyong made a show of rustling around in the box before pushing back his chair as quietly as he could and leaning over the table to press a kiss to Yuta’s lips. Yuta leaned into him, then kept his eyes closed when Taeyong pulled away and sat back down.

“Well?” said Taeyong finally, arranging himself innocently in his chair.

Yuta opened his eyes and looked at Taeyong with half a smirk.

“Any guesses?” Taeyong said.

“Yes,” said Yuta. “This candy actually has a very unique taste.”

“Oh really,” said Taeyong, covering his grin with one hand.

“Very distinctive. Rare, too, rare enough that few would readily recognize it, but luckily I’m a connoisseur of flavors such as these, and I think I’ll be able to identify it...”

“Okay,” said Taeyong.

“…if I can just get another small sample,” Yuta continued.

Taeyong looked up at the ceiling, trying to stifle laughter.

“Please. A little more is all I need to narrow it down,” said Yuta as Taeyong stood up.

“Okay, okay, just close your eyes,” said Taeyong, and he pulled his chair closer to kiss him again, longer, letting Yuta take gentle, exploratory dips past his lips, over his teeth and tongue. Then he drew back, only a few inches this time, and Yuta opened his eyes.

“So?”

“Mmm,” said Yuta, still running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip. “Mm-hmm. Profoundly sweet, a little bit piquant. I also detect a hint of zest. Yes, I’ll definitely be able to pinpoint it if I can just have one more taste…”

“YUTA,” said Taeyong, yanking the hood of his sweatshirt down over his eyes.

Yuta pushed the hood back and laughed, “I swear, no, I swear, just one m—”

“You’re all out of cheats,” said Taeyong, placing his elbow on the table so he could put his chin in his hand and position himself close to Yuta. “If you have to forfeit then just say so.”

Yuta shook his head. “Uh-uh. I know what it is.”

“Yeah?”

“That’s heaven,” Yuta said, eyes dropping to Taeyong’s lips as he spoke. “That’s a little taste of heaven.”

Taeyong said softly, “Oh.”

“Right answer?” Yuta asked.

“I mean,” said Taeyong, shrugging, “yeah, that’s, it’s, yeah, great answer.”

“Got you flustered,” said Yuta with a smile.

“Flustered? No. A little, maybe.”

Yuta went on smiling at him.

“What?” he said.

Yuta shrugged. “Just you.”

Taeyong swallowed and said, “You’ve got a free collarbone pass now. Like, for guessing right.”

Yuta nodded at the table. “I’ll hang onto it for now. You’ve got a call coming in from Mark Lee.”

“ _Mark?_ ” Taeyong yelped, grappling for his phone. “Oh, god, why is he FaceTiming me,” he muttered.

“You guys always FaceTime,” said Yuta.

“Mark?” said Taeyong, picking up the call, and a second or two passed before the image of Mark’s face close to the camera came into focus.

“Yong? Yong?”

“Hi, I’m—”

“TAEYONG! Is the video real? Is the video true? GUYS, COME HERE, I HAVE TAEYONG ON THE PHONE,” Mark shouted over his shoulder. He was in his and Lucas’s dorm room, the door behind him standing open.

“Did you see the video?” Taeyong said. “Why haven’t you been in the group chat all day?”

“What? I have the group chat muted, I just saw the video like five minutes ago, Seulgi sent it to Hyuck—”

Hyuck, followed shortly after by Lucas, came careening through the door screaming, “FACE OF KOREA! IS IT REAL? IS NAYU THERE?”

“Jesus, don’t you guys have, like, a noise limit there?” said Taeyong as they clustered around the camera.

“Taeyong,” said Mark, “can you explain what happened in the AHHH!” and the noise on their end erupted again as Yuta, who had gotten up, shifted into view next to Taeyong and waved.

“Guys. Guys! Shut up, holy shit!” Yuta said, but the three of them wouldn’t stop screaming. “Are you two like—” “KANG SEULGI SENT ME THAT VIDEO BUT IT FEELS LIKE SOME SORT OF ELABORATE PRANK—” “—together now or—” “There’s no way Johnny’s dumb enough to switch a love letter for face masks—”

Yuta made an “ugh” noise, turned to Taeyong, and kissed him full on the mouth. Then he turned back to the camera and said, “See, we’re really…” but instead of calming, the noise level somehow doubled, Mark dropping the phone to the desk so all Yuta and Taeyong could see was the ceiling while Lucas, Mark, and Hyuck screamed ecstatically at each other.

Yuta put his forehead in his hand. “Did you really think kissing me would shut them up?” said Taeyong.

“NAYU,” said Hyuck, fumbling for Mark’s phone and holding it up haphazardly so that only the upper half of his face was visible while Mark and Lucas rioted behind him, “YOU GUYS ARE IN LOVE? ARE YOU GUYS IN LOVE?”

“Yes, Hyuck, we’re in love,” said Yuta. “Can you—”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD CONGRATULATIONS IT’S WHAT YOU DESERVE—”

“Hyuckie, put Mark on. Put Mark on the phone,” said Taeyong, and somehow the phone got passed to Mark, who was smiling like he’d just found proof of the existence of Santa Claus.

“Taeyong, I told you!”

Taeyong looked at Yuta. “I said he would say that, didn’t I say he would say that?”

“Yeah,” said Yuta, “you said he would say that.”

“So let me get this straight—Lucas, stop singing! Let me get this straight, you,” Mark said, pointing at Yuta, “were in love with Taeyong this whole time and thought he knew already, but you didn’t know, Yong, so you convinced yourself you didn’t have a chance and spent all these months losing your mind for nothing?”

“Yyy…yes,” said Taeyong.

“I _knew_ something was up,” Mark said to Hyuck and Lucas, who were chanting the lyrics to a TWICE song somewhere off-camera. “I literally knew it.”

“SAME! THE KISS AT THE WEDDING WAS SO WEIRD,” said Hyuck’s voice.

“What kiss at the wedding?” said Lucas.

“They started doing this weird thing where they were pretending they were boyfriends because they were the only single people there, and it got really weird really fast,” Hyuck explained to Lucas in the background, and Mark said over him, “So you guys are good now? Everything’s cool? No more weird stuff?”

“Well it depends how you define ‘weird.’ I just spent ten minutes describing to Taeyong what he would taste like if he were a chocolate,” said Yuta, and Taeyong hip-checked him while Mark made a face.

“Okay,” said Hyuck, appearing beside Mark again, “that sounds like something that’s only entertaining to the two of you, but as long as y’all are done miscommunicating then we’re happy.”

“Yes, oh god, yes,” said Taeyong.

“Wait, Kang Seulgi sent you the video?” Yuta said, leaning forward, and Hyuck’s face lit up.

“Oh! Yeah! She said Joohyun got a message from one of her friends asking if the two guys in the video were at her wedding and so she asked me about it and I, disgracefully, had to tell her I had no idea, but now I can update her, so, speaking of updates, what’s your relationship status? So I know what to tell Kang Seulgi?”

“Boyfriends,” said Yuta, and Taeyong turned to him with wide eyes.

“BOYFRIENDS!”

“Boyfriends?” said Taeyong.

Yuta raised his eyebrows at him. “Boyfriendssss…?”

“Boyfriends?” Taeyong said again, a smile spreading over his face.

“Boyfriends,” Yuta repeated, shoulders relaxing and turning back to the phone, where the kids had gone back to celebrating, Hyuck and Lucas high-fiving over Mark’s head.

“Okay, we’ll uh, we’ll see you when we get back to Seoul,” said Taeyong.

“Okay! Bye!”

“Love you, bye…”

“GOODBYE LEGENDS!”

“Love you too, talk to you soon,” said Taeyong, and just before he hung up they heard Hyuck shriek, “SO I _HAVEN’T_ BEEN IMAGINING THE SEXUAL TENSION BETWEEN THE TWO OF—”

The call cut off and immediately Taeyong said, “ _Boyfriends?_ ”

“I thought—I thought that was…established?” said Yuta, clasping his hands in front of him.

“God. You’re adorable.” Taeyong took his hands and disentangled them so he could thread his fingers through Yuta’s. “It was established. I just—ah, the word ‘ _boyfriend_ ,’ it…it’s so…!”

“What? Is it too much? Is it too, like, official?” Yuta asked earnestly.

“No, no, no,” said Taeyong, “it’s everything I ever wanted. To be your boyfriend.”

Yuta closed his eyes in relief. When he opened them, they were shining.

“Like, I used to think about what it would be like,” said Taeyong, “if I got home and walked in the door and yelled, ‘Hi, boyfriend,’ and you’d be like, ‘Hi, boyfriend’ back, and then I’d kiss you and we’d cuddle up with Max on the couch…”

Yuta put a hand over his mouth and squeaked, “That’s fucking cute.”

Taeyong rolled his eyes sheepishly. “Kind of weird, but…”

“Weird?” Yuta laughed aloud. “Shut up. I’ve been daydreaming about you calling me your boyfriend for nine stupid years.”

Taeyong looked down at Yuta’s fingers intertwined with his and began to trace patterns on the back of his hand. “They were stupid,” he said, “but they were great. We had a great nine years together, Yuta.”

“Yeah, we did.” Yuta glanced over his face, letting out a slow sigh. “God, I loved being your best friend.”

“ _I_ loved being _your_ best friend. And Yuta, you still are. We still are best friends,” said Taeyong, grinning as Yuta bent forward to drop a kiss on his temple, on his cheek. “No one understands me like you, no one’s…in tune with me like you...”

“We click,” said Yuta, kissing his eyebrow.

“Right! We click. You’ll always be my best friend. You’re just my best friend who happens to be my boyfriend.”

Yuta kissed his nose and his cheek again and said, “Your best friend who happens to be in love with you.”

“And now we’ve got decades to be best friends who are boyfriends who are in love with each other,” said Taeyong, growing impatient for a kiss to land on his lips and raising his face, but Yuta dodged him and leaned back again. Taeyong pouted and Yuta smiled, as if that was what he’d been waiting to see all along.

“Tease,” said Taeyong.

“So what do you want to do today, best friend who is my boyfriend who I’m in love with who I like to tease?” said Yuta, picking up his chopsticks to search in the remaining soup broth for a stray noodle.

Taeyong cocked his head in thought.

“Again,” said Yuta, “I’d gladly lock myself in a room with you until we had to leave for our flight if that’s what you felt like doing.”

“Don’t you want to hike the mountains?”

Yuta slurped at the soup. “I do. But two days ago, hiking the mountains was the most appealing thing within the range of possibility, and now _you’re_ the most appealing thing within the range of possibility, so it’s not going to break my heart if we don’t get to it.”

“What if we,” said Taeyong, “do the three things that lady said we should do?”

“That lady? The lady who gave us the abalone soup?”

“Mhm.”

Yuta nodded slowly. “Black pork. And what else?”

“Hear me out, but black pork tonight,” said Taeyong, “and Sunrise Peak tomorrow at dawn. And then before we go, the…love park, whatever the fuck it was called.”

Yuta smirked into his soup. “Loveland.”

“Yeah. It’ll be funny.”

“You just want to go because you’re a degenerate.”

Taeyong gasped, “It’s for educational purposes!” and briefly considered dunking Yuta’s face into the soup, but Yuta was pushing the bowl away, wiping his mouth with a napkin and nodding.

“So you’ll go hike Sunrise Peak with me?” he said, and Taeyong could have sworn that the way his smile grew looked like light breaking over the horizon.

“I’ll do anything with you,” said Taeyong honestly, and finally Yuta kissed him.

They idled around the apartment until they were too hungry to wait any longer and finally walked down from the cliffs to town. Between the succulent black pork at the restaurant, the fancy champagne back at the suite, and the way Yuta treated him like a precious gem wherever they went, Taeyong started to wonder if this was what it felt like to be royalty—decadence in every mouthful, enchantments around every corner. “I feel like a prince,” he told Yuta in bed that night, “like this whole island’s our kingdom,” and Yuta murmured into his neck, “You are, baby. All of this belongs to you.”

Yuta was awake before the alarm the next morning, and he woke Taeyong up gently. It was still dark out, but Taeyong didn’t mind. Yuta was more excited at the prospect of hiking Seongsan Ilchulbong than he’d let on yesterday, and his energy was palpable as he ran around the apartment gathering their things and telling Taeyong about the bus they had to take to the peak. It made Taeyong’s stomach feel all warm.

“So it’s actually not a mountain but a giant massive crater,” Yuta told him as the bus drew closer to the huge dark peak in the distance, “formed by a volcanic explosion underneath the sea a hundred _thousand_ fucking years ago.”

“A volcanic explosion?”

“An undersea volcanic explosion. It’s named Seongsan for being a hill in the shape of a castle,” Yuta read from his phone, “and Ilchulbong for being a high point with amazing views of the sunrise. Okay. Ooh! In the spring, Seongsan Ilchulbong is covered over in yellow rapeseed flowers, giving climbers a golden view both in the east and the west! Taeyong! The spring, that’s now!”

“Yellow flowers, it’ll be like Seulgi’s wedding,” said Taeyong.

“She would love this place,” said Yuta, and then the bus lurched to a stop and Yuta’s face lit up. Color was beginning to spread through the fabric of the night sky, and the silhouette of the squat peak stood out jaggedly against it. “Tae, look. LOOK,” Yuta said, pointing through the bus window, and Taeyong whispered, “I’m looking, I see it.”

“Isn’t it so cool? I can’t wait to walk up it.”

“Me neither.”

The morning air was clear and cool, and tasted of the sea. The tourism sites online had said to allow forty-five minutes to climb the stepped trail to the top of the peak, but at Yuta’s pace they made it there in twenty and sat down among the frothy yellow flowers, taking out their water and bananas and mangoes. The ocean was gray and glassy under the lightening sky, and the crater of the mountain stretched quiet on their other side like an enormous basin. A few other couples stood at a distance, but they barely noticed the presence of anyone else.

“It doesn’t even feel that early,” said Taeyong, propping the heels of his hands in the grass behind him. “Like, I’m not even tired. And I just hiked a mountain.”

Yuta chewed on a strip of dried mango. “That’s what happens when you get a full night’s sleep twice in a row, Taeyong. You get to not be tired during the day.”

“Really? I had no idea it was possible not to be tired during the day,” said Taeyong.

“God, shut up. You’re going to make me sad.”

“It’s okay,” said Taeyong, scooting towards Yuta to bump shoulders with him, “because now, whenever I can’t fall asleep, I’ll have you to tire me out.”

“How romantic.” Yuta was smiling.

“Actually,” said Taeyong, “even our first night here, I fell asleep as soon as you got into bed with me. Even though you were like two meters away and I was super pissed off at you.”

Yuta smiled a little, and Taeyong said, “Just having you there was enough.”

Yuta looked out towards the ocean where the horizon was beginning to glow red at a point in the east. Then he said, “Yeah. I wasn’t sleeping as well on the couch as I wanted you to think, either.”

Taeyong laughed.

“And speaking of sleeping, and, uh,” said Yuta as he shifted to put his head on Taeyong’s shoulder, “tiring you out, what do you want to do with our beds at home? Leave them the way they are? Or…”

“I mean, leave the beds the way they are, sure, as long as we can always sleep in the same one,” said Taeyong.

“That doesn’t sound very ergonomic.”

“Then we get a bigger bed,” said Taeyong, “and move into the same room.”

“Or we could get a new place,” said Yuta, sitting up. “A one-bedroom would be cheaper…”

“And we could move closer to the river…”

“Like Johnny’s apartment!”

“And we’ll be closer to Mark and Hyuckie…”

“And we’ll be together,” said Yuta, “and you’ll never get a bad night’s sleep again.”

Taeyong laughed. “Yeah, well. You’ll have to cross your fingers for that one. But yeah. It’ll be better.”

Yuta nodded, looking over his face with an expression of satisfaction.

“Plus in a month,” Taeyong went on, “the song contest will finally be over.”

Yuta groaned. “Tae, don’t think about the song contest right now. I want you all to myself the last few hours of our honeymoon, and I want you stress-free—”

“Our honeymoon,” Taeyong giggled.

“—so don’t worry about your song, at least until we get home. For me.”

“I’m not worried about it,” said Taeyong, not fully realizing until he said it that it was true. “I’m not worried about it, I think I can write it now. I think…This competition thing, it made me feel like I had to, you know, grind it out as fast as I could, so I could spend the rest of the time perfecting it. But—yeah. I should have figured out a while ago that it doesn’t really work that way, you can’t force it, and everything. Kind of like um,” he said, tugging a blade of grass out of the ground, “telling you I loved you? Like I couldn’t do it until I just…did it? And I kept trying to force myself and make it just right when I should have just been honest or…just said whatever’s in my…heart, I guess.” He laughed a little. “I think if I can do that with you, then I can do it with my song.”

Yuta was watching his mouth move as he spoke. His face seemed somehow open, like butterfly wings. He looked so lovely, like this, in the stillness.

“You’re such a miracle,” he said.

His voice was quiet. Taeyong stopped twisting the grass blade in his hands.

“I never could have imagined,” he said, bringing his gaze up from Taeyong’s lips to meet his eyes, “in a million years, Taeyong, that someone as beautiful, and sweet, and dear, and thoughtful, and determined, and creative, and—and—so full of…” Yuta paused to find words. “That…someone as electrifying as you would ever be mine.”

The sun had broken. Yuta’s face was awash with the orange promise of day. He was all Taeyong could see.

“But you are mine,” said Yuta, “and you’re not just some person who’s as beautiful and dear and amazing as you, you’re _you_ , you’re Taeyong. You’re my Taeyong, Lee Taeyong. I keep thinking, it can’t be real, it can’t be true, no way I get this lucky, that’s crazy…and part of me still can’t believe it, but…there’s this other part of me feels like…”

Taeyong was nodding, because he knew the feeling Yuta was describing, and in the silence following Yuta’s words he drew a little closer to him, letting their hands brush on the ground. Yuta smiled, intertwined their pinkies and said, “Well, you know I never believed in fate before.”

“Before?”

Yuta shrugged and looked down at their hands, taking Taeyong’s in his properly. “Well, you know,” he said again. His features were cast in stunning relief, and Taeyong knew the sunrise must be incredible right now, but it didn’t occur to him to look away from Yuta’s face. “Maybe it’s like Taeil said,” Yuta whispered, “and it was only a matter of time.”

They sat there, eye to eye, for several seconds, and then Taeyong said, “Yeah. I always felt like that.”

“You did?” said Yuta.

“Well—not that it was only a matter of time until we ended up together,” said Taeyong, “but like…you…that I had to fall in love with you. That there was no other way things could have gone. Even if we hadn’t met at camp or school, we would have met eventually so I could fall in love with you, because no matter what happened, I was going to. It felt like that.”

Yuta shook his head without breaking eye contact and said, “You’re unreal.”

Taeyong smiled, knocking their shoulders together a little.

“No, I’m serious,” said Yuta, “this is what I’m talking about. You’re so unreal. You have the ability to make a skeptic believe in fate, do you understand how powerful you are?”

“If you were me,” whispered Taeyong, “and you knew yourself, and saw your face every day and heard your voice every day, you would have believed in fate all along, because no inherently random universe could ever have created a human being as extraordinary as you.”

Yuta was shaking his head again, and as Taeyong started to continue, Yuta cut him off with a kiss. It was short—only a moment—but in the kiss, Taeyong could feel it. This was too good to happen by chance. This love was too deep, too sweet.


	16. highway to heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> highway to heaven / nct 127

After they got home, it became increasingly apparent that the reach of the confession video much more wide-ranging than Taeyong had initially hoped it would be. Everyone they knew seemed to have seen it. By Sunday afternoon they were both hearing from a downright thrilled Ten as well as several people they knew from high school, and Yuta was fending off texts from his sisters, his classmates at beauty school, even an old friend from Japan, which the video had apparently spread to. Taeyong hoped that he wouldn’t hear about it the dance studio at least, but that was wishful thinking, because the second he walked into class on Monday it was all his students could talk about. The Tuesday classes were no better. Apparently, the Zhong Chenle kid who had taken the video was a childhood friend of Jisung’s, so Jisung had seen and sent the video to Jaemin and Jeno on Friday night, well before Yuta and Taeyong even knew that it existed. Naturally, once Jeno had ahold of the video, the whole class did, and a good half of them brought in face masks to gift to him as a joke. When Taeyong refused to accept them, they all put them on at the end of class and sat in the lobby, looking like a little party of extremely chatty ghosts.

Their friends, even though they’d seen the video and heard from Taeyong and Yuta themselves, all demanded to meet up with them the minute they touched down in Seoul. Sicheng and Taeil were satisfied just to see Yuta and Taeyong show up at their house holding hands, Ten and Kun were happy with a double dinner date, and Doyoung accepted the couple selca they’d taken next to an R-rated Loveland statue before leaving Jeju as proof of the stability of their new relationship. Jaehyun and Johnny, though, sat them down for a two-hour interrogation, demanding answers from as far back as the beginning of high school. Did they fall in love right away? Pretty much. Before they even knew they were gay? Pretty much. Didn’t they ever hook up in high school? Everyone had always thought they’d hooked up high school. No, they never hooked up in high school. Seriously? Because Johnny and Jaehyun had always been convinced that it had gone down at some point and that was why they were so close. “Johnny, if we had hooked up in high school, don’t you think we would’ve just _stayed_ hooked?” Yuta said, and Jaehyun shrugged, “Could’ve saved yourselves a fair amount of trouble,” inviting Taeyong to pound him on the arm.

Still, no one was more ecstatic than Mark and Donghyuck. “ _Dads!_ ” Hyuck sang as he burst through the door on Wednesday evening when Taeyong and Yuta had told them to come over, running into the kitchen to throw his arms around Yuta and then Taeyong. “My dear, dear lawfully wedded parents!”

“So we’re not in-laws anymore?” said Taeyong, kissing the top of Hyuck’s head before prying his arms off him so he could reach for Mark.

“It’s semantics,” said Hyuck. “What’s important is that my fathers are together. TOGETHER. The way they always DESERVED to BE.”

“Y’all don’t understand,” said Mark, hugging Taeyong hard enough to be able to lift him off the ground for a few seconds, “how bizarre it was to bring up that YouTube video and see your faces.”

“And we reread the title, and we thought, no, no, must be clickbait, there’s no way that’s really what happens in the video,” Hyuck chimed in, “and then it really HAPPENED…”

“Hyuck almost started crying,” said Mark.

“I DID NOT CRY?”

“You almost cried.”

“It’s okay Hyuck,” said Yuta. “I almost cried like eight times.”

Taeyong glanced around at them, at his little brother squeezing his waist, at Yuta watching Hyuck with that fond, indulgent smile, at Hyuck insisting that he hadn’t cried with his arm hooked around Yuta’s neck. Suddenly it looked like a little family, and Taeyong was feeling so much love he thought he might overflow.

“Was it fun?” said Mark. “Jeju?”

“Fun is one word,” said Yuta, smirking at Taeyong.

“Fun,” said Taeyong, “enlightening, informative, strange…”

“The term ‘out-of-body experience’ comes to mind,” said Yuta.

“Surreal,” Taeyong continued, “somewhat baroque…”

“All right, okay, we get it,” said Hyuck, searching the cabinets, “you guys had a wet n’ wild pirate mermaid adventure off the mainland. Good for you. Did you bring any Jeju snacks home for us to try?”

“They don’t really have any special snacks that travel well,” said Taeyong.

“I gotta ask,” said Mark, picking up a squeaking Max, “Taeyong, did you ever find the letter you wrote Yuta? The one you were gonna…”

“Give to me at the wedding?” Yuta said. “He never found it. I’m still mad. I want to see it.”

“You already know all the things it said,” said Taeyong.

“I know. But I want to _see_ it.”

“ _Mark_ ,” said Hyuck in a disgusted voice from where he was sitting on the kitchen counter, “what are you doing fraternizing with my nemesis?”

“We’re just friends,” said Mark sarcastically, scratching at Max’s ears. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

Hyuck put his hands on his hips. “You say that now, but in a few months you’ll be staying out late, sneaking around behind my back, and with a skank like _that?_ At least have some taste!”

“Don’t listen to him, Maxie,” Mark stage-whispered into Max’s fur. “He’s just jelly of what we have.”

Taeyong edged closer to Yuta until he was able to put his chin on his shoulder. “Hey,” he said while the kids yacked at each other, “I could always write you a new letter. I could write you a hundred letters. A new one every day.”

Yuta smiled and turned his head to brush his lips against Taeyong’s cheek. “That’s cute. I just wish the original letter would turn up somewhere. We still have mine, I wish we had yours…”

“Well the _original_ original letter,” said Taeyong, “went through Max’s small intestine weeks ago,” and they snickered.

“Hyuck’s right. That cat’s an evil sonofabitch.”

“ _Yuta!_ He’s _right there!_ ”

“You eviww sonofabitch you,” Yuta cooed in a cutesy voice, going to pet Max’s head, and Max gazed up at him adoringly from Mark’s arms. “Yes, you mean, eviww, tewwibew, howwibew cat,” said Yuta, scratching his ears. Max closed his eyes and stuck out his tongue blissfully.

“See? How can you hate this innocent face?” Mark said to Hyuck.

Hyuck shook his head despairingly. “Truly,” he said, “I can’t believe the way all of you fall for his act.”

A little over a week later, Taeyong had a song stuck in his head—some TWICE song that Mark was singing, undoubtedly influenced by Hyuck and Lucas—and, over the course of two dance classes and a long commute home, the melody playing in his head morphed and broke apart and melted into something entirely new, something a little slower, and broader, and the more he tweaked it around the more he liked it. The second he got in the door, he ran to his room, stopping only to repeat Yuta’s shout of “Hi, boyfriend!” back at him, and yanked his notebook out of his backpack. They’d already moved most of his things to the other bedroom, and the space was largely empty, which, it had turned out, was perfect for writing without distractions.

“ _If your heart is calling, calling out to me, I’ll be there_ …” he hummed under his breath. “ _I’m already running, running_ …”

Yuta appeared in the doorway of his room, started to speak, saw him crouched on the floor scrawling in his notebook, widened his eyes and slowly stepped away.

“ _What are you waiting for…what_ …what…?” Unable to think of a line to follow, he began to scribble it out in frustration, but caught himself. “ _What are you waiting for, what are you waiting for. We’ll take the highway to heaven_ ,” he wrote, “ _anytime, anywhere I feel you…mm, mm, mm…oh na na na na, oh na na…_ ”

An hour later, the second “ _what you waiting for_ ” had become “ _shout it to the sky_ ,” and the “ _na na na_ ”s had become “ _yeah yeah yeah_ ”s, and he had a stable first verse, a bridge, and an entire chorus. He ran out of his bedroom to find Yuta in the kitchen, standing over the stove with Max doing figure eights between his legs.

At the sound of his footsteps, Yuta spun around and said, “TAEYONG?”

“YUTA,” he gasped.

“Mrow,” said Max.

“I, I, I have it, I have a song,” he blubbered, tears spilling over his eyelids out of nowhere, and Yuta, grinning, threw his arms around Taeyong and held him tight.

Taeyong didn’t sleep much that night, but it was the first time for that since Jeju, and he actually came out of it with a song—well, most of a song; the second verse still needed work, but he’d get Mark’s help for that. The song was good. It was really good. He knew it. Yuta loved it, of course, but it even impressed Mark’s critical ear. Together Taeyong and Mark worked up the lines “ _Just like how morning comes, the roads will all connect, I believe that, we believe that,_ ” to replace a muddy bit in the second verse, and all at once the song was written, it was finished, it was done. He just had to put it together.

Taeyong wrapped up the recording and the basic instrumental for the demo within four days. He was happy with it—thrilled, really—but there were still two weeks till the submission deadline. Instead of allowing himself to obsess over the demo, search out flaws that weren’t there, change things that didn’t need changing, he made himself leave the demo be and try to write something new. It was easier said than done, because the first track was all he thought about for several days, and more than once he broke, relistening to the demo and tweaking a few things before tearing himself away from it again. But a week later another song was taking shape, and then two more in one night. None of them were as good as “Highway to Heaven,” as he’d dubbed the first song, but he felt like he could make something out of them.

One day while Taeyong was writing in the extra room—they’d decided not to move out, letting Taeyong’s old bedroom transform into something of a study—Yuta came in and asked very softly if it would mess up his flow if Yuta drew him while he worked. Taeyong shrugged, said it probably wouldn’t, and told him to go ahead. Yuta sat down with his back against the far wall and his sketchpad on his knees.

The May show was the biggest success the dance studio had ever seen, both in terms of ticket sales and in regards to the quality of the performances, though Taeyong might have been biased, since he’d taught half the classes that performed. The two standing ovations of the night went to Triple J and to Love & Live, as Hyunjin and Heejin had elected to name their little unit. Taeyong’s short solo dance that he’d prepared was also a hit, and Jisung sent the video of it that he took on his phone to his friend Chenle in China, who put it up on his YouTube channel where it garnered another several thousand views.

“You’re YouTube famous now. You’re an internet personality,” said Yuta, still rewatching the video of the solo dance a few nights later.

“No,” said Taeyong.

“Yes.”

“No one who sees the dance video will recognize me from the Jeju video. Why do you keep watching that over and over, anyway? Are you doing a streaming project or something?”

“No. It’s just sexy,” said Yuta, grinning cheekily at him. Taeyong reached across the couch and shoved Yuta’s head, but he didn’t pay any attention. “I told you how your gaze when you’re on stage is hot,” he said. “Maybe the hottest thing, like, ever.”

“Okay, well.” Taeyong cleared his throat. “I’ll…keep that in mind.”

“Johnny’s going to send me the pictures he took of you so I can draw them,” said Yuta, lowering the phone for a moment. Johnny had gotten the photography job with the big entertainment company a few months ago, and he’d gotten a huge fancy expensive camera that he carried with him just about everywhere these days. The pictures he’d taken of Taeyong at the show had come out extraordinary.

“Oh,” said Taeyong, “you’re going to draw me dancing? Instead of like, still?”

Yuta nodded. “I’m gonna try bring back all the technique I learned in high school art classes. I feel like I should remember that stuff. I feel like I _want_ to, I mean.”

“Yeah,” said Taeyong, “Yuta, that’s great.”

“Mhm,” Yuta said, looking down and smiling.

“You’ve been drawing a lot lately,” Taeyong prompted, shifting closer to him so he could comb his fingertips through Yuta’s hair.

“Yeah,” said Yuta, tilting his head into Taeyong’s touch. “Yeah, I…I don’t really know why. It just feels good.”

“Better than doing makeup?” said Taeyong.

Yuta bit his lip. “No. Just different, I think. It kind of feels like when we were kids. Like the pressure’s off, and it’s just you and me sitting in the flower shop after high school.”

“In our own little world,” said Taeyong, smiling.

“Yeah.” Yuta laughed softly. “Exactly.”

“Do you feel like there’s, uh,” Taeyong said slowly, “pressure at beauty school?”

Yuta shrugged and said, “Yeah. Uh…yeah. There’s a lot of pressure. Tennie and I were talking about it one time. There’s a lot of pressure to be, like, original and innovative and come up with new ideas, but there’s also this pressure to master the established techniques, and stay on-trend, and just…not buck the system, I guess. Because you can’t make money bucking the system. So they kind of discourage that. And at the same time they say they’ll reward risk-taking and creativity. I don’t know. It’s weird.”

“Do you feel like they’re stifling you?” said Taeyong, alarmed.

“Stifling me? The school? Oh, no, not really. The school, they want to see us try new things, it’s just that…the industry doesn’t really want that, I guess.” Yuta thought for a second. “Unless you already have a reputation for being the best of the best, and then you can do whatever you want.”

“So you go with the status quo for a while,” said Taeyong, “build a reputation, become the best of the best and then you’ll get to do whatever you want.”

Yuta smiled. “Yeah. Ideally.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

He laughed. “I hope so. I’m going to try.”

Taeyong sat up and said, “So beauty school? You’re not…?”

“I don’t know yet,” said Yuta, “I’m not sure, but I don’t think I want to leave anymore.”

“Ah!” Taeyong sighed happily.

“Like, I never really _wanted_ to leave. I just thought I…should? I mean, you know that already,” said Yuta. “But the more I think about it, the more I figure if I get really good, and become the best of the best, like you said, then my parents will have to be proud of me. And either way, even if I fail, at least I’ll know I tried.”

Taeyong kissed his cheek. “Either way, I’ll be proud of you.”

Yuta turned his face to catch Taeyong’s kiss on his lips. “I know. That’s everything, Tae. That’s everything.”

“I love you,” said Taeyong, smiling into his face.

“I love you, baby boy.”

Taeyong didn’t win the song contest. “Highway to Heaven” by Lee Taeyong, 25, was listed among the finalists on the radio station’s website, but being a finalist didn’t get him any radioplay. He was bummed out for a few days, cried into Yuta’s shoulder once or twice, but beyond the initial disappointment he wasn’t too devastated. Mostly that was because he knew “Highway to Heaven” was a fantastic song, and the song that had beat him out was insanely good, like, probably broke a few of the contest’s rules regarding seeking help from professionals good. The other reason he didn’t mind losing was that the contest had catapulted him into productivity as he’d initially hoped it would, and he was finally making music again, more and more every few weeks. Now, like Yuta had told him the day the contest winner was revealed, when there were other opportunities, Taeyong would be prepared.

More than any of that, though, his low mood was buoyed when Yuta sent a charcoal drawing of Taeyong into an art contest he’d seen advertised online, and won it three days later. It was a small contest, put on by the Young Artists Association for residents of the Seoul city proper, but Yuta got a cash prize and a few lines in a local newspaper about how he had won without any formal drawing schooling past high school. Yuta was dumbfounded by this, and convinced that there had been some mistake. “I only did it for kicks,” he told Taeyong, “this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Maybe it was supposed to happen,” said Taeyong. “Maybe it was fate.” Yuta rolled his eyes, smiling.

Taeyong, for his part, couldn’t stop thinking about what Yuta’s older sister had told him years ago, what Yuta had written in his love letter, “like your happiness is my happiness.” Yuta’s win had him absolutely gleeful. He sent his parents and stepparents the newspaper clipping, showed it to all his dance classes, and taped it onto the refrigerator. His boundless excitement made Yuta glow. He kept drawing, and Taeyong kept writing.

It wasn’t until mid-June that a letter from Seulgi and Joohyun appeared in their mail. Taeyong, who had gotten home before Yuta, set it aside so that they could open it when they were both around, and sorted through the rest of the mail.

A half hour or so passed before he heard the front door open and called down the hall, “Hi, boyfriend.”

“Hi, boyfriend,” Yuta answered, appearing a few minutes later to tilt Taeyong’s face up for a kiss. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning the dishwasher,” said Taeyong, who was kneeling in front of the open dishwasher with a sponge.

“The dishwasher…needs cleaning…?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes these things get nasty. Like showers get nasty,” said Taeyong, working at a stain on the side of the machine.

“Do they,” said Yuta. He picked up a banana off the counter and sat down at the kitchen table. A moment later he said, “Hey—from Seulgi and Joohyun…?”

“Yeah,” said Taeyong, setting one knee on the dishwasher door so he could reach further inside, “I think it’s a thank-you note for the wedding cash.”

“Aw. That’s cute,” said Yuta. Taeyong heard him tear open the envelope. “I wonder if their wedding photos are out yet.”

“It’ll probably be soon, it’s already been two months,” said Taeyong.

“You’re right, it’s a…” Yuta shuffled with the envelope.

“A thank-you letter?” said Taeyong, his voice echoing a little bit inside the dishwasher. “What does it say?”

Yuta didn’t speak. Taeyong removed himself from the dishwasher and stood up, turning around as he took off his rubber gloves. Yuta was staring at a piece of paper, and his eyes were brimming with tears.

“Baby?” Taeyong dropped the gloves on the floor and ran to him. Yuta shook his head quickly.

“It’s okay. It’s…it’s all right. Look.”

Yuta was holding a small note in his hand. “ _Taeyong,”_ it said, _“my mom found this when she was going through the wedding gifts for Seulgi and me. Since it’s not addressed to us, she didn’t know what to do with it, so she squirreled it away and I just got ahold of it now. You seemed a little upset when you left the wedding, and when I saw that this had your names written on it, I thought it must be yours, and it had gotten lost at the wedding and ended up in our gift box somehow! I’m so sorry it took so long for us to find it and return it to you. Seulgi and I are both so thankful to you and Yuta for the generous gift, and for being with us on our big day. Love from, Joohyun_.”

Yuta set the note down on the table and pulled a slightly smaller envelope out of the one from Joohyun and Seulgi. It was a little battered, and had “ _To Yuta, Love Taeyong_ ” written on the back. Yuta turned it over to see his name in Japanese on the front.

“That’s it,” said Taeyong, “that’s my letter.”

Yuta started to cry in earnest, and Taeyong, taken aback a little, bent to put his arms around him and kiss the side of his face. “Shhh, shh, it’s okay. Sweetie, it’s okay.”

“I just didn’t think,” said Yuta, “I’d get a chance…to read it…”

“Oh, sweetheart. Sweet boy.” Taeyong knelt next to him and wiped the tears off his cheeks. Yuta smiled, laughing a little through the tears, and looked down at the envelope.

“I didn’t know you could write my name in Japanese,” he said.

“How could I not know your name in Japanese?” Taeyong said.

“I don’t know.” Yuta sniffled and rubbed at his eye with the back of his hand.

“Open it,” said Taeyong gently, and Yuta nodded, running his finger under the sealed flap and tearing it open. He pulled out the letter, gave another laugh mingled with a sob, and put his chin in his hand.

_“Dear best friend, my dearest Yuta,_

_“I don’t know how well you remember coming out to me a year after we met. I guess you probably remember it as well as I do. We were in the flower shop after school, and I was so surprised when you told me that it took me a second to react. It wasn’t really because I was shocked that you were gay. Actually, I was kind of shocked at how happy I was that you were gay. I was weirdly overjoyed and I had no idea why. Well, it turns out it was because I was starting to fall in love with you. I’ve been falling in love with you my whole life. And I still am, more and more all the time. There were a lot of moments over the years where I didn’t know what I was feeling, and it was love. I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t realize it for a long time, and then I was nervous. You don’t have to do or say anything. Nothing between us has to change. I just wanted you to know loved you are and how much you mean to me, because you’re the bravest, smartest, funniest, most caring person I’ve ever met and you’ve helped me grow in so many ways I can’t even describe. So thank you, for being my friend and for being you. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without you._

_“Love you dearly,_

_“Taeyong_ _”_

Tears were pouring down Yuta’s cheeks by the time he set the letter back down on the table. Taeyong had pulled a chair closer to him and was pressing little kisses to his neck.

“So what do you think,” said Taeyong, “is it as pretty as the song I wrote about you?”

“WHAT?” Yuta said.

Taeyong looked at him. “You know? ‘Highway to Heaven’?”

“‘Highway to Heaven’ is about _me?_ ” Yuta said.

Taeyong said, “Yuta, who else would it be about?” and Yuta went “AH” and put his face down on the table.

“ _Yuta_ ,” Taeyong laughed, tears starting to gather at the corners of his eyes. He sniffed and wiped them away. “Yuta, baby. Yutaaa. Look at me.”

Finally, after much prodding, Yuta raised his head. Taeyong kissed his wet eyelashes. “Look, we’re moving forward,” he said, quoting the song. “It’s okay if we make mistakes, we’ll just repeat.”

“Keep going till it works like this,” Yuta joined in, singing along through tears while Taeyong spoke, “without boundaries, we limitless,” and they both laughed and leaned into each other.

“Maybe we made some mistakes,” said Taeyong, “and lost a lot of love letters, and didn’t properly communicate for nine years, but it’s all right. Because look where we ended up.”

Yuta nodded, snuffling, and let Taeyong hold his hands. “Limitless,” he said, letting out a trembly giggle.

“Yes! Yes, sweet pea, exactly. We’re limitless. You and me. We can go anywhere. We can go to the sky.”

Yuta looked down and Taeyong let go of one of his hands to rub his back, whispering how much he loved him until his tears dried.

“Sorry,” Yuta said eventually, “I’m just so…”

“No, no, no. Don’t apologize. You can cry as much as you want.”

“I’m just so lucky,” Yuta hiccupped, “to love you, and that you love me, the way you do.”

Taeyong shook his head. “You deserve every ounce of love that comes your way. You deserve everything, Yuta.”

Yuta laughed. “You sound like Hyuck. ‘ _IT’S WHAT YOU DESERVE_.’”

“It is,” Taeyong insisted, but Yuta was right, and he started to laugh with him.

“So there were,” Yuta said, wiping at his eyes, “a lot of moments over the years where you didn’t know what you were feeling? But it was love?”

“Oh yeah. Like, dozens and dozens of them.” Yuta pulled Taeyong’s legs over his lap, and they sat there all criss-crossed in each other at the kitchen table. “Like, for example,” Taeyong said, “when we started to think about what to do after college, and you suggested we live together…”

“I remember that!” Yuta said as Taeyong leaned into his shoulder. “I remember I was kind of joking, and you were like, oh, yeah, we totally should live together…”

“You were _joking?_ ”

“I was disgustingly in love with you! I never thought you’d agree to live with me. I was just like, hey, haha, I’d get an apartment with you anytime, because I LOVE you, and you were like, yeah sure.”

“I was so happy when you said that! I was like, absolutely blown to smithereens by that idea.”

“Blown to smithereens!” said Yuta.

“Yeah! I just loved you so much, and I thought it was platonic friend love but _still_ , the idea of being able to see you every morning when I got up and every night before I went to bed, it made me so, so _happy_ …”

“Fucking gay.”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!”

“Yes, it is?”

“Oh. Yeah it is.”

They stayed curled up in each other’s arms until their backs started to hurt on the kitchen chairs. Eventually Taeyong kicked the dishwasher shut and they went outside to find cheap takeout for dinner, promising a disgruntled Max that they’d be back in a few minutes. The sun was still out. As they walked down the street, they passed in and out of its light. Yuta chatted at his side, the blue summer around them was humid and thick, and no picture-perfect daydream Taeyong had ever imagined could compare to beauty of this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the End :''')
> 
> first of all, thank you so much for reading to the end!! this fic is pretty long so it means a lot if you got through it all! i really hope the ending was worth it :)) i also must ask that you forgive any cultural inaccuracies that may have appeared throughout the fic! a lot of research went into this baby (especially the jeju bit, i'm sure yall can tell lol) but there are always things i may be ignorant of, so constructive comments are so so welcome! umm yeah actually all comments are welcome hahaha they are my (read: every writer's) lifeblood so if you have any thoughts you'd like to share about the fic, don't be afraid to, even if it's just a word or two!!
> 
> thank you also to my darling prompter!!! without you this would never have been possible! i'm also so grateful to the enrara mods for organizing this glorious fest! i had pretty much stopped writing for a year or so because i told myself i didn't have time or i was too busy to create anything worthwhile, but entering this fest and writing this long a fic proved to me that it is possible and inspired me to begin other projects again so!! thank you enrara <3
> 
> lastly, if you'd like to talk about the fic or about your day or anything at all you can find me on twitter at @mfalfanclub, don't hesitate to send me a message! thanks again to everyone at enrara and i hope whoever's reading this has a really great day :) and drink ur water fam :)


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